Stradivarium Opus

Author: Skinfull

Disclaimer: Not mine no profit no harm.

Summary: Control is a fickle thing unless you know who is holding the reins.

Stradivarium Opus

By Skinfull

Washington DC

January 19th 2008

5.40PM

A soft sleet barely trickled but fell slowly down in curving arcs to the ground,

covering everything in a wet slush that worked its way into her socks. Her bags were

heavy with parcels and Shirley knew she was at least four blocks away from her car.

The green familiar logo of the Starbucks coffee shop was almost as welcoming as the

star of Bethlehem to the three wise men so she hurriedly crossed the road and pulled

open the door.

She was met immediately with the aroma of pastries and coffee and knew she had

made the right decision. Spotting an empty seat by the window in the corner she

trudged over and dropped her packages and draped her coat over the high backed

stool, then rummaged for her purse before joining the small queue for coffee.

Deciding to get the hot chocolate instead of her usual latte, she selected an

oversized muffin too and paid for her order. The background music was almost

obnoxiously loud but then she could excuse it since it was no longer blaring

Christmas tunes she’d never heard before. After all, she realized as she slid into her

seat, the holidays were finally over and the After Christmas sales had been

particularly good for a change.

Sipping her drink, she tore a chunk of her muffin off and allowed her eyes to wander

over the other patrons. A young couple sat huddled in the corner, sharing a piece of

pie and sipping the oh so trendy tall cups of latte, across the room from her. Also

sitting at the high counter that ran along the window was a young man working on a

laptop, his eyes frowning and his fingers moving quickly over the keys in a blur and

for the first time since she left the office that afternoon she was glad. Despite the

traipsing around town in boots that were cutting into the backs of her heels and the

lack of forethought she’d put into her car parking choice, Shirley was glad she wasn’t

sitting at work.

Outside more ‘clearance sales’ shoppers streamed by seemingly oblivious to the ever

increasing snowfall, only aware of where they needed to be and how to get there.

Except for one man. He was across the road beneath one of the old fashioned lamp

lights that the city had erected in an effort to pump some culture into this neon

shopping district. He was playing the violin. She could make out some of the notes,

although not the full melodies, but from the small number of passers by that paid

him any attention she wondered if she was only hearing the best of him. An old case

lay by his feet, open and empty save for a few coins she guessed he had thrown in

himself in an effort to encourage more tipping.

Shirley watched the movement of his arms, shoulders, and fingers as he tried in

earnest to get the crowd that milled around to notice him and she almost felt a pang

of sorrow. He was playing for money, hit hard, maybe even laid off from some

employer who cut payroll right at the end of the year. He would need to buy food,

pay the rent for his family she imagined he had waiting at home for him. Then

shaking her head with a self admonishing laugh she finished her hot chocolate and

prepared to leave the dry warmth of the coffee shop. Outside bundled up with her

hat and scarf in place; she pulled on her gloves and picked her packages up again,

checking the traffic before crossing the road.

It seemed to her that each step she took was accentuated by the music of the

violinist and she glanced over at him, only to see him watching her. His eyes closed

over for a second then opened, his focus more intense on her now and his music

matching her movement. Her gait slowed and she found herself stopping and

listening to the soft sounds of his bow crossing the taut strings. She didn’t recognize

the music, didn’t know one classical song from the next but this was different. This

was touching her in places that music had never reached before. Her eyes were

glued to his and she lost all sensation of the world around her. Passers by brushed

against her in their effort to continue on their journeys unimpeded. She took a step

closer to him, her eyes never leaving his until she stood only two feet away.

His bow arced with the final strains of the classical piece holding the haunting note

for longer than she thought possible, taking with it her breath until finally the note

tapered away on the wind. Shirley sighed with relief and for a second wondered what

had happened.

“You liked it?” he asked as he bent over his case and carefully replaced the violin into

its velvet lined cradle.

“That was amazing.”

“I know.” He stood and tucked the case under his arm then held out his hand, palm

up towards her. “Come on.”

It wasn’t even an issue of refusal, that wasn’t even an option. All she could think

about now was hearing that music again and feeling that sensation course through

her body once more so she took his hand and allowed herself to be led away.

He had a car parked not far from where he’d been playing and Shirley climbed into

the passenger seat as he stored his instrument in the trunk, then slipped into the

driver’s seat. They drove in silence for a while and he reached over to take one of

her hands in his. Just outside the city he pulled off the highway onto a smaller road

before pulling off again onto a dirt road that was lined with tall fir trees, heavy with

foliage and snowfall. Shirley squeezed his fingers excitedly at the thought of hearing

his music again as he pulled up at a small rustic house and climbed out. From the

trunk he retrieved the violin and took her hand again as they both rushed up to the

house and into the relative warmth inside. It was open plan with a large kitchen and

living area in the main entrance. A stone fireplace was the centerpiece of the room

and seemed to be already prepared for lighting.

“Do you want to play again?” she asked, looking hopefully at the case in his hands.

“I will in a minute but first we need to heat this place up a bit.” He crossed the room

to the fireplace, his case still in his hands and rested it on top of the thick wooden

mantelpiece above it. In no time he had a fire going and turned to see Shirley still

standing where he had left her and smiled. This time it would work without

problems. This time he had hit all the right notes. There was no trace of

apprehension in her eyes, no trace of doubt or fear, just expectation. And if there

was one thing he knew for sure, it was that this night would exceed all her

expectations. “Come here,” he said holding his hand out to her and she walked over

without hesitation. “Take off your clothes.”

Shirley reached up to her scarf and unwound it from her neck then tossed it aside

along with her gloves and hat to the overstuffed chair to her left. Her coat soon

followed and she clumsily undid her belt before undoing her pants and pushing them

down her legs, where they caught on the boots she had been cursing earlier. She

lowered herself to the rug and pulled her boots off as gracefully as she could, all too

aware of his unmoving gaze upon her. With her pants gone and her boots tossed to

the side she stood up again and undid the buttons on her blouse.

“Wait…you’ll be cold. Let me get you something.”

Shirley watched as he raced off into a room beside the kitchen that she guessed was

the bedroom, and then jogged back to her side with a cotton pajama top. He was

standing so close to her now that she could feel the aura of heat coming off him. She

undid the rest of her buttons then threw the blouse where the rest of her clothes lay

and took the top from him.

“You won’t be comfortable with that on.” His voice was low and warm, his breath

caressing her goose bumped skin. One of his fingers touched the silky strap of her

black bra and ran along it to the cup at the side of her breast and she smiled.

Reaching behind, she undid the clasp and dropped the silky material without a

second thought. Slipping into the cotton top she buttoned it up and gazed up to him

waiting for his approval.

“You smell…perfect.” He leaned in closer and touched her hair, twirling it between his

fingers and smelt it. His arms snaked around her, his fingers joined at the small of

her back, pulling her close to him then resting his forehead on her shoulder. He was

almost a foot taller than her and she had to reach up to wrap her arms around his

neck as they swayed to the music both of them could remember. “Summer day…at

the lake…” his voice was murmuring thoughts and memories as he held her closer

and pressed her small lithe body against his.

“Will you play?” she asked wanting, needing to hear that music again.

“Soon.”

She felt the wide neck of her top move to the side and he brushed his lips against

her shoulder trailing soft wet kisses to her ear.

“Let me play with you first.”

Shirley wanted to laugh. She didn’t even know this man, didn’t even know his name

and he was using terrible lines that she would only expect to hear in a cheesy

teenage date movie but this was more, this was different. Then his kissing stopped.

“Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird ein netz gesponnen.

Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt.”

“Is that a poem?” she asked as she swayed her hips luxuriously against him.

“Of sorts.” His hands roamed to her sides and traced soft lines up over her body to

her shoulders and as he pulled back, he rested his hands on her and caught her eyes

again. She felt locked in place and couldn’t move but she didn’t feel any fear, only

contentment.

“Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird ein netz gesponnen.

Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt.”

This time when he spoke his eyes shimmered and changed, the color like glistening

jade only to finally settle on the richest shade of emerald green she had ever seen.

She was so entranced by the color there that she didn’t notice the movement of his

fingers as they curled against her throat. The long fingers that earlier she had so

admired as they stirred along the strings of his violin and enticed notes and sounds

like she had never heard, now gripped her throat in a tight unmoving grip. His

thumbs came to rest along her larynx and it wasn’t until she felt the soft pressure he

exerted there that she became agitated.

“Wait,” she said and her hands came up to gently touch his forearms. “I want to hear

you play again.”

“You will,” he almost whispered, his eyes flicking down to the quickening pulse that

beat against the skin beneath her jaw line. “Just relax.”

But her pulse didn’t relax and as he pressed harder against her neck, harder into her

larynx and her breathing became labored he realized that it hadn’t worked. The spell

had failed to materialize to anything worth a damn and that she was as good as dead

in his arms already. A white hot wave of rage washed over him and he wanted

nothing more to do with her. Nothing he could impart into her would make her love

him and no acquiescence of his will would make him love… her.

“You are just like all the others.” His rage intensified as his grip tightened and the

look of fear that finally encroached on her face only made him madder. “Nothing will

work and now it’s too late.”

Her face reddened and her eyes watered as Shirley tried to figure out where she was

and why this was happening to her. Random thoughts and images flashed before her

as she tried to rationalize the situation but in the second that it took for that to

happen, she realized too that there was nothing she could do. She clawed at his

arms, his hands and even his face to get him to release her but all she could feel was

the impending darkness that was closing in around her, shrinking her field of vision

and stealing the power of her limbs until finally there was nothing.

He shook the final few breaths from her body and let her fall limply to the floor.

Disgusted at himself for failing again and more so at her for failing him, he

unceremoniously ripped the pajama top off her and neatly folded it before placing it

onto the couch, then gathered up the rest of her clothing and tossed them into the

fire. Watching them burn for a few minutes he slowly turned to her crumpled body

and with a resigned sigh he walked into the kitchen. In the closet under the sink, he

seized the tarp he needed and a coil of rope before getting to work.

***

Mulder & Scully’s Duplex

January 19th 2008

7.50PM

Mulder lay across the couch and didn’t bother to shift the cushion that cradled his

neck at that almost painful angle. Three hours to commute back from the crime

scene in what should have been at most a forty minute journey. Heavy Snow falling

and a sewer construction detour made only for a lengthened drive as far as he was

concerned. And to make matters worse the house was empty when he trudged back

in exhausted.

Still in his damp coat, he was tired, hungry and felt grimy. Never would he ever

expect Scully to be waiting in the kitchen for him with a hot meal, but if there was

ever a time for him to play his chauvinist card tonight was it. He would given his

right leg to have a hot meal waiting for him, a hot bath and maybe allowed to control

the TV to watch the game tonight but he knew he was daydreaming. Scully was

meeting with a colleague from Quantico tonight for dinner and to discuss a paper

they were working on, so he would have to fend for himself. Prepare some sort of

sustenance and maybe squeeze in a quick shower before the game started thanks to

his lengthy commute. Glancing at the clock he watched the seconds tick by for

another minute before forcing himself off the couch.

He tossed his coat onto the rack by the door with a mock crowd-cheering whoop, as

it stayed there rather than pooling onto the floor as he crossed into the kitchen to

get food. The fridge seemed empty to his lazy appetite, even though it was all but

full to the brim and instead decided to opt for a takeout pizza. Smiling at the

delicious thought of not having to get the low fat cheese or the low carb base, Mulder

quickly dialed the memorized number and ordered the cheesiest, meatiest pizza on

the menu, then added some extra toppings and paid with his visa. He rubbed his

hands with childlike glee as he undressed in the bedroom and prepared the shower.

It wasn’t the hour long soak he was anticipating on the drive home, maybe with

Scully joining him for some ‘quality time’, but his spirits had been lifted enough by

the thoughts of the incoming food that it didn’t bother him. He was dressed again in

sweats and a Tee and stretched out on the couch as he decided which game to watch

when the door bell rang.

“Perfect timing.” Mulder jumped up to grab the door and took the large pizza box

with a smile. He pressed a dollar tip into the delivery boy’s hand then closed the door

before he settled back on the couch.

Scully had said she would be home late so he knew he should get most of the game

watched without interruption, and that thought alone seemed to settle his frayed

nerves even more. Not that he didn’t love to have her curled up beside him, her nose

in a book as he tossed insults at the offending team, but this night was a rarity, and

one he cherished.

So much that when the phone rang half an hour later, he hushed it. Ignoring the

shrill noise for another moment he finally gave in and answered it.

“Mulder.” His eyes still on the game and his free hand reaching for another pizza

slice, he didn’t look at caller ID to see who it was.

“I need you.” It was a husky voice that he and several parts of his anatomy

recognized immediately and he thought, the only voice that would make him break

his concentration on food and sports. “I need you now.”

“What’s happened?” the momentary fear he experienced from her words evaporated

as he heard her giggle.

“I got drunk.”

“Drunk? Scully it’s 8.30. How can you be drunk so early?”

“It turns out that if you start drunking at lunch time,” she muttered, her voice

slurred and hiccupping. “Then you get drunked more quicker.”

He wanted to laugh at her speech. Her words jumbled and messed up and her voice

barely able to carry them but then he wanted to scream. He knew she was calling for

a lift and that she was almost all the way over the other side of town. More than half

an hour’s drive away on the best of days but today, who knew?

His eyes flicked over from the TV to the pizza and he sighed. There was no way he

could leave her in this state to get a taxi and he knew he would be able to wrangle

something good out of her for this.

“Okay I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“Where are we?” Mulder listened as she spoke to someone that was standing next to

her and the laughing and giggling that followed made him uneasy. “We’re at Phase 1

on 8th street.”

“Okay I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll wait outside for you.”

“No Scully it’s too cold. Just wait inside the bar and I’ll be there in a while.”

Mulder waited for a reply but all he got was more giggling so he hung up and went

into the room to change. On his way through the living room he grabbed another

slice of pizza and checked the score line.

As expected, the drive was monstrous through the city and all the shortcuts and

back alleys he took seemed blocked up by other drivers that also knew these covert

routes. Eventually he made it onto 8th street and drove slowly along it until he saw

the bar. The name was written in a small yellow font that was back lit against a black

wall with a large bouncer standing at the door. Mulder drove another block before he

found parking then hurried through the thick snowfall, holding his coat closed with

his hands buried deep inside his pockets. At the door to the bar he stepped forward

but was blocked by the thick arm of the bouncer.

“Sorry mate.” Mulder frowned at the British accent and wondered who travelled

abroad to take a job as a bouncer, then realized he was being refused entry.

“I’m just picking someone up.”

“Aren’t we all sunshine, but not for you,” the bouncer said looking him up and down

“Not in this pub.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Mulder argued, stamping his feet to keep them from

freezing to the pavement. “I’m picking up my wife.”

The bouncer laughed and sized Mulder up before stepping aside; with an almost

regal gesture he pulled the door open for him. “Good luck, mate.”

Mulder glanced quizzically at the bouncer before hurrying into the warmth. The room

was dark enough for his eyes to need a moment to adjust but when they did, he saw

a small bar with a stage for live music and the floor cluttered with dancers. Odd

chairs and stools scattered the room, none of them matching in color or size but he

figured that was part of the intended theme. On the stage a young woman was

playing the guitar and behind her another playing the drums. The music was fast and

loud but not obnoxiously so. Mulder scanned the room for Scully but failed to spot

her and decided he would need to delve further in to see if he could find her.

Removing his jacket, he draped it over his arm as he circumvented the room. He was

tempted to go over to the bar, order a drink but then he figured if he collected Scully

and they hurried home he would catch the end of his game as his pizza reheated in

the oven. Then he spotted her, in the last place he would have thought but then

remembering the drunken giggles he should have guessed.

On the dance floor with her friend Eliza next to her, Scully was dancing to the fast

music like she had been born for it. Her arms waved over her head and her hair was

flung about her face as she swayed her hips and laughed with the flow of music. For

a few moments he just watched them and he was enthralled by the look of

enjoyment in her face. Too little had he seen her so elated and now to see it

unabashed, uninhibited thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol she had imbibed, it

was invigorating. He wanted to walk up to her, grab her for a kiss, feel her smile

against his lips as he drank in her abandon but then her friend spotted him and they

booth looked towards him.

Scully smiled almost bashfully as she crossed the floor to him. “Hey,” was all she

managed before grabbing bunches of his shirt and pulling him down for a sweet kiss.

He forgot his anger and frustration, the niggling pain in his neck and even the rapidly

cooling pizza that waited for him and all he could think of was how hot she was

making him. He pulled her against him and deepened the kiss, bending her back a

little as he held her tighter. A few of the people around them cheered and Mulder felt

a slap on his back from at least one passerby. Finally they pulled apart and she

smiled at him.

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me?” she said almost purring.

“Does that mean you just kissed me so I wouldn’t be mad?”

Scully laughed and disentangled herself from his arms then turned to see Eliza still

dancing on the floor. She hurried over and spoke a few words in her friend’s ear who

then turned sharply to Mulder. He was acutely aware of her eyes as they settled on

his groin area and he thanked god that the room was too dark for her to see

anything. After a quick hug, Scully retrieved her coat from a chair and met Mulder

again but as she took his hand and tried to lead him back out onto the street, he was

suddenly struck with a realization. He looked around the room, seeing for the first

time the patrons of the bar and how none of them were male. All the people dancing

were female; the staff behind the bar and the ones gathering glasses around the

room, all of them were woman.

“Scully…” he said as he followed her out onto the street. She had pulled her coat on

tightly and was shoving her hands into her pockets when he joined her, buttoning up

his own coat. The bouncer smiled as he spotted Mulder coming back out and slapped

him on the back.

“You managed to convince her to leave with you then?” he said laughing and Mulder

frowned at him.

“C’mon Scully,” he shivered as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled

her close against him to guard her from the cold. He guided her to the car and held

the door open for her until she had climbed in, then hurried around to the driver’s

side. The snow had continued to fall while he’d been in the bar and the car was now

nestled under an inch thick blanket. He turned on the engine and flipped the heat up

full then switched the wipers on until the screen defrosted.

“That was a gay bar right?” he asked, looking at her quizzically, a crooked smile

caressing his lips.

“Yeah,” she replied, rubbing her hands together to generate more heat and blowing

hot breath into them. “Eliza was looking for a release.”

“Release?”

“She broke up with her girlfriend last week and I think she wanted to blow off some

steam.”

“So you were her wing man?” Mulder looked at the windshield and saw it was

defrosted enough to see out of now, so he checked his mirrors before pulling out on

to the road.

“I guess, although I don’t think I was being too successful.”

“Looked like you were having a good time though.”

“A great time.” Scully laughed as the memories fluttered through her alcohol addled

mind.

“So you guys didn’t get much research for your paper done I guess.”

“Eh…no!” she smiled as she settled back into the seat and let one of her hands rest

high on his thigh. “Eliza called me just after you left and we decided to make it a

lunch meeting instead of a dinner one. And I guess one thing lead to another.”

“You mean one drink lead to another!”

Scully shrugged as her eyes closed over and Mulder decided to let her sleep. She

would pay for her misbehaviors with an almighty headache in the morning and after

the kiss she greeted him with, he knew that was punishment enough for making him

miss his relaxing evening in.

When they reached home she was all but fast asleep and it took some maneuvering

to get her out of the car and into the house. She tried to say she wanted to stay up

but he convinced her to go straight to bed. He turned down the quilt as she washed

in the bathroom then helped her into her night clothes, then forced her to drink a

glass of water. She kissed him enticingly as she climbed into bed, but she was asleep

before her head hit the pillow.

He kissed her cheek then returned to the living room where he found the game on

replay and popped his pizza in the microwave to warm up. He soon settled back in

his original position on the couch, TV remote in one hand and slice of pizza in the

other, he sighed with contentment and took a bite.

Then his phone rang again.

“Oh Christ…” he muttered letting his head fall back onto the cushion in frustration as

he reached blindly for the phone on the side table. “Mulder,” he bit out.

“Agent Mulder I need you to go to St Augustine’s Church in the District — 25th Street

Northwest.”

“AD Skinner?”

“I need you to get there as soon as possible. There is a case there that requires your

special attention and you have to get there now.” Skinner’s voice was hushed and

carried urgency.

“I’ll leave right away.”

Skinner had hung up before Mulder finished his sentence. He tossed his pizza back

onto the plate and went into the bedroom where Scully was asleep. Her light snores

were endearing enough for him not to wake her so he placed a kiss on her cheek and

left.

***

St Augustine’s Church

January 19th 2008

11.20PM

Considering the covert way in which AD Skinner had called him, Mulder was

surprised to find a full complement of emergency services outside the church. A wide

area had been cordoned off with police tape and three squad cars had blocked it

further from the ever increasing crowd. A swat van had been parked on the corner

just out of sight but Mulder saw it was empty and figured they were already in

position. In the center was another unmarked van that he realized was being used as

the command centre for this debacle. He pulled out his badge and walked through

the cordon then made his way to the Officer in charge.

“You FBI?” A tall stout man called as he watched Mulder approach through the

cordon. “‘Bout time you made it. I’m Detective Waverly. Where’s the rest of the

cavalry?” he shouted, looking around Mulder for the rest of the Bureau.

“I’m Special Agent Fox Mulder.”

“The specialist?” Waverly took Mulder’s arm and led him over to the van where

Mulder saw three other officers watching small black and white screens. He could

just make out the interior of the church on the screen obviously being broadcast by

optical cameras placed there by the Swat team. “The perp has three hostages in

there and is refusing to talk. We don’t have a name.”

“Hostages?”

“Some service tonight, not many people. This guy waited until most everyone had

cleared out, then he went up to the altar and grabbed priest at gunpoint, along with

two altar boys. One of the altar boys had a cell on him and he dialed 911.”

Mulder processed the information as quick as he could then focused on the screens

again. The church was small enough that one camera with a wide angle could take in

the whole interior scene and Mulder saw two altar boys kneeling at the front of the

altar, the priest kneeling beside them, all of their heads bent in prayer. Then to

Mulder’s surprise he noticed the captor kneeling in the first row of pews, his head

also bent in prayer.

“He doesn’t look too aggressive.” Mulder commented, gesturing to the captor.

“He already emptied a clip into the church door when we first approached.”

“And he hasn’t made any communication?”

“We tried to call the kid’s cell back, but we think the perp found it and turned it off.”

Waverly seemed tense and angry and Mulder realized then why he was so happy to

see the FBI on the scene.

“Gimme a minute.” Mulder stepped away from the van and pulled out his cell. He

speed dialed Skinner and waited only one ring before it was answered.

“Mulder, did you get there yet?” Skinner’s voice was still hushed.

“Yes sir, but I’m not sure why.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No sir, there are no lines of communication open as yet. We have video footage of

the church but it’s unclear.” Mulder paused then added. “Why am I here?”

“You don’t recognize him?”

“Sir I can barely see him. Just tell me why I’m here”?

“The man in that church is Special Agent Robert Jefferies.”

The name was enough and Mulder hung up without saying another word. He walked

over to the van and took off his coat. He folded it across a chair then took off his tie

and suit jacket. He removed his gun from its holster and left it on the pile of clothes

with the clip removed safely.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going in. You need to get rid of those cameras and pull the swat team back.”

Mulder rubbed his hands together as the coldness of the night seeped in. “Then get

rid of the press and push those people back another hundred feet.”

“What?” Waverly looked around at all the stuff Mulder was gesturing to. “What the

hell is going to happen?”

“Nothing. Just do it.” Mulder called over his shoulder as he walked towards the

church door. He heard the flurry of activity begin behind him and placed a sweating

hand on the freezing church door. He opened it and stepped into the foyer before he

called out to Robert behind the inner door.

“Sir, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder. I wondered if I might come in and talk to

you.”

“Cavalry, huh?”

“Just me, sir.”

“Come in to talk to me, befriend me and gain my trust…” He heard Jefferies mocking

laugh. “Well Agent Mulder I’m too busy for all that right now.”

“You may not remember me but we worked together on a case back in 94.”

“. . . I remember.”

“Look Robert I’m not armed, I’m not wired and I got the Swat to move back. Just

give me ten minutes and then I’ll walk out if you don’t like what I have to say.”

Mulder waited a moment to be refused entry but when he was met with only silence

he decided to try the door. Stepping to the side, he tested the handle and found it

unlocked then pushed the door open slowly. No shots were fired or footsteps

charging towards him, so Mulder took a deep breath and stepped in.

The church seemed even smaller now that he was inside and he immediately let his

eyes fall to the altar boys and priest who still knelt on the altar steps. Robert was

sitting on the front pew now but his head was bent and his shoulders slumped.

Mulder’s footsteps were muffled by the red carpeting but still seemed to ricochet

around the silent space. When Mulder reached the edge of the pew Jefferies, as if on

instinct, slid up on the seat making room for Mulder to sit in next to him. They sat in

silence for a few minutes then Jefferies turned to him.

“It’s been four years.”

Mulder knew what he was talking about. Knew the case and remembered it well.

Too well. He had only worked with Jefferies on that one case but he was markedly

different to the other senior agents Mulder had worked with before. He was focused

on the job and wasn’t afraid to make intuitive leaps. He rewarded Mulder’s train of

thought rather than discouraging it and was one of the few agents who showed

Mulder respect for the job he was doing. They had kept in touch over the years,

meeting occasionally over commemorative or celebratory beers in a bar. Then four

years ago it all fell apart.

While the older man was working on a case in Arlington, Jefferies wife had

disappeared. She had been in town shopping; her car was still parked in a multi-

story off West Avenue and was full with Christmas packages. Her wallet was found in

a metro station four blocks away but that was all they ever found. No money was

ever removed from her account and she was never seen again. The simple

investigation Jefferies had been running on smuggling ring had turned into a full

scale manhunt.

No ransom calls were ever made and no body was ever found. It tore him apart and

Mulder looked now at the shell of a man it left behind. He’d left the Bureau and

dedicated his life to finding his wife but four years had passed without a trace of her.

“Four years and I have nothing.” Jefferies spoke quietly. “No leads to follow, to clues

and no fresh trails. I have nothing. I am nothing without her.”

Mulder had no reply and for a second he thought about how he’d felt when Scully

was missing and his heart did a painful triple beat against his ribs. He knew then

whatever words he could say to placate Jefferies would fall on deaf ears.

“Nothing.” Jefferies fondled the gun on his lap and twirled it around. It was pointing

at nothing but menacing all the same. Mulder looked over to the priest and altar

boys and decided it was time to play by the rules.

“How would you feel about letting them go?” He nodded towards them. “I can stay

here with you for as long as you need.”

“They can go.”

Mulder was stunned for a second, unsure if this was a trap but then decided he had

to use the opportunity to get them to safety. He approached the altar and touched

the priest on the shoulder.

“Father,” Mulder said softly, helping the older man to his feet. “You can all leave.”

“Thank you son.” The priest ushered the two shaking altar boys quickly down the

aisle towards the vestibule then turned back to Mulder who had followed close

behind. “Won’t you come with us?” he asked the tall agent when he spotted Jefferies

still sitting in the pew his back to them all.

“I need to finish this, Father. But you get to safety.”

The door creaked as Mulder closed it after them and turned to walk back to Jefferies

who was standing now. He walked over to the altar and took the three steps up onto

the main area. He was gazing up at the crucifix and Mulder thought he could hear

him praying.

“Agent Jefferies, if you come with me we can go back to the Bureau, maybe take a

look at your case. Fresh eyes…” Mulder’s voice trailed off as he noticed Jefferies

shoulders were shaking.

“Would you do that for me Agent Mulder?” he asked, his voice broken with emotion.

“Would you take a look at the case and see if you can see something I missed?”

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

Mulder frowned and then noticed that Jefferies hands weren’t by his sides but up in

front of him as if holding something to his chest and all too soon he realized what it

was. The world seemed to turn in slow motion. He moved as if through jello only his

mind was working at warp speed. His feet were heavy and awkward as he took wide

running steps to the altar only to be met with the shattering sound of the gunshot.

Robert Jefferies jerked back with the force of the bullet from the Beretta and Mulder

found himself splattered with blood and brain matter from the exit wound on the

back of Jefferies’ head.

***

Skinner’s Office

January 20th 2008

8.00 AM

“Full report Agent Mulder.”

Skinner was sitting at the top of the large conference table and next to him was AD

Shanklin. They both looked to Mulder and waited for him to fill them in on the

situation at St Augustine’s the night before. Mulder had been up most of the night

preparing the report and had spent most of that time in the morgue with the coroner

working on blood toxicity levels from Robert Jefferies.

As Mulder spoke about what had happened and how it had ended neither of the AD’s

said a word. When he finished they spoke quietly amongst themselves. After a

moment of whispering AD Shanklin sat back in his chair and sighed.

“Good work Agent Mulder.”

Mulder nodded, not feeling the sense of achievement that usually followed a job well

done. Even though he had showered and changed, more times than necessary,

Mulder could still feel the wetness of Jeffries’s brain matter hitting his face, could still

feel the tacky residue that was left there and couldn’t take praise for his part in this.

AD Shanklin stood up and slid a file folder over towards Mulder. “You want to keep

your promise?”

Mulder looked down at the case file and recognized it as Brenda Jefferies missing

person’s folder. “See what you can get from that but don’t let it kill you like it did

him.” Then he nodded at Skinner and turned to leave.

Mulder took the file and decided it was his cue to leave when Skinner called him

back.

“Good work out there Mulder. You know there was nothing you could have done.”

“I guess so sir.”

“No Mulder. Jefferies went out last night with every intention of killing himself and

maybe those he held in the church. I spoke to Father Grayson and he said that Agent

Jefferies asked for absolution.”

“It didn’t help him.”

“And neither could you.”

Mulder glanced at Skinner and knew his superior was only trying to ensure he didn’t

carry around the blame for this, so he couldn’t argue with him anymore. He nodded

solemnly and left the office.

Taking the elevator down to their basement office, he glanced at the clock and

decided it was time to call Scully to see if she was awake yet. Sitting at his own desk

with the phone in his hand, his finger hesitated over speed dial 1. Sunday morning,

all was quiet but here he was opening a new, possibly difficult case. With a killer

hangover she wouldn’t be happy at the intrusion, but he needed to hear her voice

more than anything else right now. Deciding instead to take the drive back to the

house and greet her with breakfast, he gathered the file and left.

***

Mulder and Scully’s Townhouse

January 20th 2008

10.40AM

Scully rolled over to steal a morning hug and found the other side of the bed empty.

The sheets were also cold so she knew Mulder had either left the bed a long time ago

or had never made it off the couch.

Wrestling with the pounding headache that was forcing her to move slowly, she

draped a soft robe over her shoulders and traipsed down to the living room in time

to hear his key turn in the front door.

“You were out and about early.” She spotted his arms laden down with breakfast

food and hurried over to help him carry it all into the kitchen, putting them on the

table. As she turned around to face him he gathered her into long tight hug.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” he whispered into her hair, stroking it

tenderly and kissing her head.

“Not yet but maybe you can show me.” She smiled up at him but the smile died on

her lips at the tired drawn look in his eyes. “Mulder, what’s happened?”

“I got called out by Skinner last night, just after we got in.” He drew back from her

and rummaged in the bags for the pastries he’d brought for breakfast. He told her

about the scene at Augustine’s church without the gory details of how he felt the

blood on his face and then showed her the case file he’d been given. He sat at the

table and pulled apart the bran muffin, while Scully read.

“AD Shanklin gave you the file?”

“I think it was a mere courtesy rather than the fact that he thinks I’ll be able to do

anything with it.”

“How are you doing?” She came over and perched on his knee, holding his face up

to look at her with a hand on each cheek.

“I’m tired.” He slipped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her chest,

accepting the comfort she offered without hesitation. “I spent the night at the

morgue with Dr Richards trying to find something in Jefferies…something that would,

you know, explain…why he did that.” He held her tighter. “But there was nothing. No

drugs, no alcohol, nothing. He just…gave up.”

“How well did you know him?”

“We worked on one case in 94. It was a child predator case. Eddie Muntz.”

“I remember that one.” Her voice was hushed.

“We worked on it for months. And he was good Scully. Really good.” Mulder smiled a

little at a distant memory but it quickly faded. “After that case we kept in touch. He

played on my ball team for a few years…that was until his wife went missing. We

kind of lost touch after he left the Bureau.”

“That happens.”

“I should have kept in touch with him Scully, I could have helped him with his wife’s

case, maybe found something he was missing. I dunno, something.”

Scully searched for the words that might help him feel better, might help him

understand the desperation but she was lost for them herself. Instead she offered

him the comfort of her touch.

They sat like that for a long time. Just holding each other, squeezing reassurances

into each other with their bodies and words until finally Mulder sat back.

“I love you.” He kissed her on the lips and then smacked her butt playfully. “But it is

time to get dressed. We got work to do li’l lady.” Scully went to shower and dress as

Mulder prepared coffee. As he waited for her he checked through the file and found

nothing out of the ordinary. Almost expecting something to jump out at him and

scream for him to check deeper. He was almost disappointed at the thoroughness of

the investigation. As far as he could tell the lead agent had done everything

expected of him and more.

Back in the kitchen Scully took a muffin from the bag and poured a cup of coffee.

She watched Mulder for a moment as he looked over the file and wondered what

details he’d left out of the incident last night that caused that haunted look in his

eyes.

“So where do we go first?”

“Robert Jefferies home. I want to see the information he’d built up on his wife’s case

to make sure we aren’t double tracking.”

Scully picked the thermos of coffee she had filled and grabbed her coat. “Let’s go.”

***

Robert Jefferies’ home

January 20th 2008

12.45 PM

Mulder picked the lock with ease and pushed the door open. It was a small suburban

house with a large garden to the back. From the street it was just as ordinary as the

rest of the houses but once Mulder walked into the living room that perspective

changed. What could have been the epicenter of a family home, had it been

furnished, was the story board for the last four years of Jefferies’ obsession with

finding his wife. The walls were covered with photos and clues trailing back to her

final sighting. She was Christmas shopping in Crystal City Mall where she was

supposed to be meeting her husband for dinner later that evening. She was spotted

leaving the mall walking west, presumably towards the parking lot where her car was

located before she fell off the radar. Mulder traced his finger along the time line

Jefferies had marked on the walls that followed her movements, then scattered

haphazardly when she was lost.

“Oh my god,” Scully gasped as she followed the wall with her eyes. “He was

obsessed.”

“I would be too,” Mulder muttered, giving her a sad look as he took a step back to

view the wall in its entirety. “Look around and see if there is something we can take

with us.”

But she didn’t move. Scully turned to face Mulder fully and waited for his attention to

return to her.

“What?” he asked finally but without turning to face her.

“Mulder, look at me.” She took a step towards him and waited a heartbeat before

taking his hand. “Look. At. Me.”

He turned to her and she saw his eyes brimming with rage and fear and it scared

her.

“This won’t happen to me. This isn’t some prophecy you can stop happening to me

too. It’s a case, a missing person’s case.”

“The wife of an FBI agent goes missing, that’s not just a missing person’s case

Scully.” He was angry. Not at her for trying to calm him down but at himself for

letting it get to him so deeply. It was a constant fear he held in his heart, usually

simmering in the back of his mind but now to have it shoved in his face so vividly

made it harder to ignore.

“If you are not up to this…” she began knowing the rise it would create within him.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be working this case.”

“I’m fine Scully. Let’s get a look at the rest of this.”

Scully let him walk away and concentrated on the task at hand. They spent hours in

the house searching through documents and following Jefferies’ leads and trails of

investigation. It seemed to Mulder that he had left no stone unturned, so as the

room darkened and the sun set he decided enough was enough. He found Scully

upstairs in another room that seemed to be following a single facet of the

investigation, the CCTV footage of Brenda Jefferies as she left the mall and walked

down the street.

She was watching the film frame by frame when he knocked lightly on the door to

drag her attention away. “You find anything interesting?”

“Nothing here that I can see but there is this.” Scully stood and left the room,

leading Mulder down the hallway to another bedroom that was focusing on a

different angle. “These are other missing person’s cases.”

“That he was investigating?”

The small bedroom was devoid of any furniture and on the floor were stacks of files.

Each one was labeled with post its marking similarities to his wife’s case.

“I don’t see any trail of investigation but simply a report of many old cases.”

“He was looking for a pattern…” Mulder’s voice took on that whispered tone that told

her he was taking a step she wouldn’t see. He was already sitting on the floor and

reaching for the nearest pile of files when she took out her phone and called for a

FBI team to assemble. This case was going to need more man power than simply she

and Mulder could provide. If AD Shanklin had given Mulder the authority to

investigate it she was sure he would agree to give them help.

Within half an hour she had authorization and a team had been assembled and

dispatched. She arranged for some of them to join them at the Jefferies house to

gather the files and transport them back to the FBI building where more people

would have the chance to search for the pattern. Already, she could see the effect

this case was having on Mulder and she didn’t want him to go down alone.

***

Friendship Heights Metro Station

January 20th 2008

9.30 PM

He looked at his watch and decided he’d give it another half hour before packing up.

The trains were running for another two hours so he should still be able to find one.

His eyes roamed the open spaced Metro station that was lined with kiosks and cafes

for the busy commuter but at 9.30pm on a Sunday most of them were empty. The

odd passenger walked through the station, either rushing for a train or heading for

the street entrance behind him, but no one lingered.

He plucked on the violin strings and he tested and tuned them, then flexed his

fingers to begin playing. Silence echoed through the empty station, quickly followed

by the soft notes of his violin. This was one of his favorite pieces. Chaconne by

Johann Sebastian Bach was considered by most a work of genius but he saw it as

enlightenment. A moment in his day where everything became clear and all he could

do was follow the sound to its inevitable conclusion. And that’s the effect he wanted

to share.

He spotted her then as he rounded past the first movement of the piece. She was

holding a box that was big but seemed light and was standing near the entrance, her

face was focused on his fingers. He threw in the bit of flare to keep her watching,

flicking his head, and closing over his eyes. Chuckling to himself he thought, “They

love it when I close my eyes.”

He watched from the corner of his eyes as she placed the box on the ground and

slowly walked over towards him. He caught her eyes and played his music, matching

the tempo to her steps as she came closer and closer until she was standing right in

front of him. He held her gaze for the duration of the piece, just before it ended a

quick glance around the metro confirmed they were all but alone.

“You are amazing,” she exclaimed, one hand on her chest as she gushed with awe.

“Thank you.” He bent low to slip his violin into its place, lifted the case and offered

his hand. She took it without hesitation and he led her out of the door, onto the

street, her box forgotten.

***

FBI Headquarters

January 20th 2008

10.30PM

Scully stepped into the conference room that they were using to run the

investigation and went straight up to one of the junior Agents. She handed him a FBI

issued credit card and told him to take everyone’s order for food. She scanned the

room and found Mulder sitting some way apart from everyone, his head deep in the

files around him. He was so engrossed in the folder that he didn’t even acknowledge

her arrival until she placed a hand on his arm.

“Scully, look at this.” He rummaged on the table and pulled out a refill pad with a list

of names on it. “Fifteen other cases.”

“Other cases?”

“Each one is female, mid to late thirties who went missing without a trace from the

tri-state area in the past seven years. ” He showed her others he had marked.

“These four went missing within three months of each other.”

“You see a pattern with these cases?” she asked skeptically.

“Each woman went missing while out shopping. Each one went missing in or near a

shopping district and none of them had any reason to leave. Extensive background

searches delved into their lives and we found nothing, no money taken inexplicably,

no passports missing or clothes, other belongings.”

“Mulder people go missing every day. It’s a sad fact but it is a fact. Why do you think

these are from the same pattern?”

“These are the last few shots of them.” He spread out the photos of the fifteen

women who he was talking about and Scully looked down. Each photo, stills taken

from a CCTV camera and the quality wasn’t the best. The shots were grainy but in

each photo the women were laden down with packages. Shopping and gifts for loved

ones. Not the sort of packages a woman on the run might have.

Then she noticed it.

“See this one?” she pointed to the one on her left that was marked with a red felt tip

pen, Eileen Dunne. “I think…hang on…”

She hurried over to the main table where the case file and footage from Brenda

Jefferies was lying. She pulled out the tapes she’d been watching yesterday and took

it over to a VCR, gesturing for Mulder to follow her.

Fast forwarding to the place she was looking for she took another glance at the

photo of Eileen Dunne and was sure she was right.

“Here look, top left of the screen.” Scully paused the tape then pressed the frame

forward button to scan the footage on one frame at a time until what she wanted to

show him was more visible. On the screen Mulder watched as a street musician came

into view. He was tall and blonde from what he could tell on the poor quality video

and he was playing a violin. An unusual choice for street music he thought, and then

looking down at the photo of Eileen he saw the same man.

“This is him playing at the Crystal City Mall on January 15th four years ago. And this

is him again playing at the entrance to Dupont Circle Station.”

“So we make him at two crime scenes…” Mulder went back to the table and splayed

out all the photos so he could see them more clearly. “Tierney!” he called over his

shoulder even as his eyes scanned the pictures. Then when another Agent hurried

over he turned to look at him. “I need you to go to DuPont Circle Station and Crystal

City Mall and requisition the security tapes for the full week preceding each of these

dates. Then get to all these other locations and see if they keep records of the street

musicians who play there.”

“Yes sir.”

Mulder turned his focus back on the photos and pulled another up, then another.

“These two.” He passed them to Scully who could barely make out the blurred arm of

a violin being held by someone’s side in one photo and the distorted image of a

figure holding something up to his shoulder. “I need to get the rest of the photos on

these women and have them examined for this man.” He called out to no one in

particular but everyone listened and got to work.

***

Cabin

January 20th 2008

11.40 PM

“Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird ein netz gesponnen.

Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt.”

He passed her the pajama top and waited for her to slip it on before putting his

hands around her neck.

“Will you play for me?” she asked demurely as his fingers caressed her throat. “I’d

love to hear you play again. Please.”

“I will but I need you to do one thing for me first.”

“Anything.” He smiled at her willingness to cooperate and wondered if this was the

one. She was beautiful with full lips curving into a smile and thick curly brown hair

reaching down to her shoulders. He slowly tightened the grip on her neck and all she

did was smile. His thumbs squeezed her larynx but her smile never wavered. As her

eyes watered and her face reddened her smile remained, her hands never came up

to defend herself and her eyes never left his. So he released her.

“Perfect.” He said as he bent low and kissed her softly, letting his tongue stroke the

reddened area of her throat where his hands had left their mark. As his tongue

touched her his hands explored and she gave in enthusiastically to his will and soon

she was writhing beneath him, giving him as much pleasure as he hoped he was

giving her. He ripped off her top and pulled down her panties as she fumbled with

the buckle of his belt. Then he caught her hands and stilled her ministrations. He

held one hand up over her head and grasped the other. Looking down at her fingers

he took her wedding ring off and showed it to her.

“What should I do with it?” he asked, needing her to verbalize the sensation, needing

her to renounce all that she was before.

“Throw it away. It means nothing.”

With those words he tossed the ring over his shoulder and crushed her to the floor

with a heavy kiss.

***

FBI HQ

January 21st 2008

11.15 AM

Mulder lounged back in his chair, tipping it to a dangerous level as he dry washed his

face and tried to relax. Across the room Scully was sifting through CCTV footage and

photos to find the street performer at more locations. Taking over the center table of

the conference room, more agents were making calls to the each of the city stations

and Malls to check for street performers and CCTV footage of any of them. The case

had been active overnight with a number of agents pulling a night shift and more

joining the team a couple of hours ago. Skinner had just left the room after a brief

chat with Mulder and he was sure he spotted AD Shanklin hovering in and out during

the day.

“Agent Mulder?” Mulder looked up between fingers that were covering his face and

saw Agent Reilly approaching him with a piece of paper. “I think I found him. This is

a copy of the street entertainer’s list that the security keep at Crystal City Mall. I also

have footage of him and these two stills. He’s generally there early afternoon and

late evening.”

Sitting up abruptly Mulder took the proffered paper and looked down at the photo. A

slim blonde man who had a nice smile was staring back at him. His face seemed

friendly to Mulder. His hair was disheveled but he figured it was styled to look that

way.

“Jordan Franco.” Mulder read as he looked at the details. “It could be an alias.”

“Yes sir but he left an address. Security insists on it as some of the performers use

valuable equipment. His last known address is in Bethesda.” Reilly pointed out

without waiting for Mulder to read through the notes at the bottom of the page. “He’s

been listed since August 2003 and the address is current as far as we know. That

make’s it two weeks before the first logged disappearance.”

“Nice work Agent Reilly,” Mulder said as he stood and snatched his jacket of the back

of the chair. “Get your coat and let’s go check this place out.”

Scully saw him rise and walked over to see what had him so animated. As she read

the sheet, Mulder called for everyone’s attention. He pointed out three agents and

told them to get prepared for a raid, while at the same time calling a judge on his

cell to issue a warrant.

“We have an address and we’re going to see if we can pull him in for questioning. I

want full body armor on this and everyone else keep tracking. We want to put all

these women on him if he had anything to do with it.”

Scully took the elevator down to the basement with Mulder and they gathered their

own protective vests for the raid. She wanted to say something to him about this not

being the end, or this not being the right guy. Something to prepare him for the

possible dead end they were about to embark on but words failed her as she saw the

look of determination in his eyes. In the garage the four other agents were suited up

and ready to go in an SUV. Mulder gave them directions to the house but said he

would lead in his own car. He jumped in beside Scully and tore out onto the street.

He had the siren on with lights flashing as they hurried through city traffic and the

SUV stuck tightly behind them until finally, they approached the house in rural

Maryland. It was a small house with more then two acres of land surrounding it in all

directions. The private entrance was gated but that was open and rusted. Scully

called for the SUV to cut the siren over the radio and they pulled up just below a hill

by the entrance. Everyone got out and Mulder gestured for two agents to go left, the

other two to the right while he and Scully started for the door. With the place

surrounded and signals from both teams that they were ready; he raised a hand and

knocked on the door. There was no reply so he knocked again, this time louder.

“Jordan Franco? This is the FBI, open up!” he shouted, then withdrew his gun and

took a step back. “I have a warrant to search this address. Open up or I’ll open it for

you!”

Scully took a side step as Mulder aimed for the lock. He counted down from five as if

hoping the occupant would open up, saving him the reports he’d have to file for

firing his gun. Then with a glance at Scully he shot the lock and kicked the door in.

Scully went in first, her gun held out in front of her, Mulder at her back. She heard

Agents Reilly and Dunne coming in through the rear.

“Clear.” One of them shouted as they came out through the kitchen. The living room

was wide and took up nearly the whole of the lower floor, except for the kitchen that

was cut off by a large archway. A small bathroom was to the left, which Mulder found

empty and they converged at the bottom of the stairs. Mulder checked to make sure

everyone was ready then raced up to the top of the stairs to the door. He tested the

handle and found it open giving it a push, his gun aloft. He was met with the putrid

smell of rotting flesh. He gagged as he stepped forward into the converted attic. It

was long and narrow like the house with the apex roof making it seem smaller.

“Oh god,” he heard Scully say as she came up behind him. The attic was dark and

they both pulled out flashlights to brighten the place up only to find more than they

were looking for. “What is that?” she said as she stepped forward and pointed her

maglight at the large mass in the corner.

“I think…oh god…I think its bodies.” Mulder lowered his gun and lifted his light to

shine it more directly on the pile.

It reached almost to the ceiling, was the width of the room and about eight foot long

across the wall. Each body seemed to be wrapped individually in tarps and bound

tightly with ropes. Even as they approached the pile Scully had her phone out and

was calling a forensics unit.

“There are thirty bodies here…easily.” Mulder was appalled, crouching down at the

foot of the grisly hill and gingerly used his gun to move the tarp on one of the bodies

to reveal the partially decomposed remains of a female.

“Agent Reilly had a look out back and there are no trashcans. He found a couple of

newspapers on the porch dating from 2006,” Scully said after having a quiet word

with Reilly by the door. “This was a dumping ground. No one lives here.”

“Who is this guy?” Mulder muttered, grimacing as he stepped away from the pile and

they made their way back down stairs. Reilly and Dunne were in the kitchen

checking through closets while Agents Black and Jones were securing a perimeter

around the house.

The wait for the forensics unit was torturous. Mulder tried to keep busy walking

around the lot to see if he could find anything, checking where Reilly had already

searched. Scully handled the wait differently and she stayed on the phone the whole

time talking to the Agents who were back in the conference room, asking them to

gather a list of all females on the missing person’s list aged between 20 and 40 since

2002. She set up her laptop with a remote connection from her cell and waited for

them to send the information through. She could see Mulder at the side of the house

sifting through leaves and brush, but decided that he needed to be actively involved

and watching her mobile printer spit out pages wouldn’t fall into the active category.

When the forensics team arrived she suited up with them into one of the full body

suits and mask then led them into the house and up to the attic. None of the team

members blanched at the sight before them and Scully silently commended them,

remembering her own reaction but then she realized they had the 30 minute drive

out to prepare for this grisly scene.

Without hesitation the team got to work photographing the scene thoroughly before

finally moving the bodies, affording some manner of dignity as they worked. They

moved them to lie flat in a row until there was no more room on the attic floor, then

started to move them to a large area in the front yard that was covered with a tent

other team members had erected. Hours passed while they processed the bodies and

in some cases skeletons, into single row. Finally they had no more to move. At final

count there were forty-two bodies at various stages of decomposition. After the

initial screening, the lead forensics officer approached Scully tearing off his facemask

on the way. She stood at the entrance of the marquee and looked on gravely at the

scene before her.

“Forty-two.” Scully sighed.

“Yeah, and the first, as far as I can gather without the lab, has been dead for over

four years.”

“And the last?”

“Was one of the first ones we moved.” He gestured for her to follow him into the

house again and then up into the attic. Scully had to look away for a second when

she first entered. It was one thing to see the undetermined pile of bodies but now

they were lying in a row, twenty bodies face up with the tarp pulled back off their

faces. This was more daunting than she had expected. “This lady can’t be more than

eight to ten days dead. The body is still bloated and fluids surrounding her are

evident here and here,” he said pointing out the pools of body fluid in the tarp.

“How long before we can start with identification?” she asked stepping over the row

and looking at each of the females in the face. They all deserved as much, she

thought.

“It’ll take a few hours before we can get them moved back to Quantico but I have

called in some help from the Maryland State Police Forensic team to get this moving

as quick as possible.”

“Good. I have a list of possible names and faces that we can start with,” she said as

she handed him the file of missing women. “Let me know as soon as you can.”

“Will do, Agent Scully. There is one more thing though.” He said as she started to

walk away. He moved further into the attic to the back wall and pointed at a small

hole that was drilled into one of the support beams in the roof. “I’m not sure but…”

he touched the hole with his finger then poked it. It was wide enough to take one of

his fingers but he had no leverage to pull anything out of it. “I think there’s a camera

in there.”

“A camera?”

“I saw a red light flashing when we first got here but it seems to have stopped now.

Like it has a motion sensor.”

“And it was pointed at the bodies? Not the door?”

“Yeah.” Scully looked up into the small hole and saw a small beam glinting off the

light of her flashlight Sure enough there was something metallic up there but she

couldn’t figure out what. “Good eyes. I’ll get one of the tech guys on it.”

Scully walked away from the tent, pulling her forensic suit open. She tore it off and

tossed it into the can by the forensic van. She spoke to one of the technical Agents

to check out the camera in the attic before scanning the area for Mulder. He was

standing at the top of the hill towards the private gated entrance to the land with his

back to her and his hands in his pockets.

A cold wind was blowing a soft snowfall away from the house and covering the

ground with a white sheen. His shoulders and hair were dusted with flakes so she

knew he had been standing there for a while. Her footfall was muffled by the frozen

grass as she approached but he still knew she was there when she stood a mere two

feet behind him.

“Final count?” he asked without turning.

“Forty-two.” She let out a deep breath then took the final two steps towards him and

touched his arm. “Between four years and ten days dead.”

“Oh Christ.” He turned towards her, shaking off her arm and she was worried by the

look of fear mixed with rage in his eyes. Dark circles under his eyes and red rimmed

lids. She saw then that he was carrying around the guilt once monopolized by

Jefferies, only Mulder was intensifying his by forty-two, each body emitting a new

wave of guilt that sunk into his core and overrun his emotions.

“Dr Kraft is arranging for the bodies to be taken to Quantico and he has arranged for

a team of forensic specialists from the MSP to join his team to make the

identification go quicker.”

“We found what could be a camera.” She added, wanting to give him more

information to focus on other than the amount of dead bodies. “Agent Grayson is

checking it out now.”

“So whoever it is knows we are here.” Mulder seemed content to leave that discovery

alone and quickly changed the subject. “I ran a background check on him.” Mulder

said looking over her head to see the activity at the house behind her. “Jordan

Franco,” he added when she looked at him quizzically.

“Did you find anything?”

“He was a musician with a band that traveled playing at local events, state fairs etc.”

“A band?”

“Well I guess an orchestra. First string violinist.” Mulder started to walk towards the

car and Scully unconsciously followed. “He played with them until 99 then he left to

pursue his own career, gigging around the city to keep money flowing.” At the car,

Mulder reached into the glove box and pulled out the small folder he’d complied on

Jordan Franco and passed it to her. “He doesn’t fit Scully.”

“He was a loner, no family and he played the violin. He was spotted at the location of

four of the missing women on CCTV camera. What’s not to fit?”

“Someone playing the violin was spotted on the photos.”

“What?” she looked up to him. He wasn’t making sense and his thoughts were going

too fast for his voice, his words, maybe even his comprehension to keep up.

“The photos we have of him, from the CCTV footage…they aren’t very clear. It could

be anyone!”

“We’re at his house Mulder. We’re at the location of his last known address and there

are forty-two bodies here. What do you want, a signed confession?”

When he didn’t reply Scully was immediately sorry for her outburst. It was too hard

to watch him sink so low, to see the effects this case was having on him, both

physically and emotionally and just let it continue without fighting for him. She

wanted to laugh at her own thoughts, as if she would ever give up fighting for him.

“Look Mulder, we will have the identification of these women in a day or so and

maybe we’ll find more connections to Franco then.”

“Maybe,” he conceded without commitment.

“Let’s go.” She took his arm and pushed him towards the car passenger side. “We’ll

go back to DC and get some food before we hit this case again.”

He acquiesced to her decision and slipped into the seat letting his head roll back to

the rest and closing his eyes. Scully noticed he was asleep before they even drove

off the property and decided to make the drive back to DC last as long as she could

to give him as much rest as she could.

***

Cabin

January 21st

12.30PM

He lay on the couch with his arms flung up over his head. The fire before them

roared with high flames and searing coals and he watched contentedly as she added

another log. She crawled on her hands and knees towards him and he loved the way

the baggy top came away from her, giving him a delicious view of her breasts

swaying with each movement. He held out his hand to help her crawl onto his chest,

shifting his weight beneath her until she was nestled between his legs with her head

resting heavily on his chest, her hands clutched his sides and she turned to face the

fire with a comfortable sigh.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, stroking her lower back in gentle circles

beneath the hem of the pajama top she was wearing. He kissed the top of her head

and she looked up to him and smiled.

“You’re eyes are so green. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes in my life.”

“I’m told I got them from my mother.”

“And your music skills?”

The smile on his face faltered for a moment but then he relaxed and let his eyes

wander to the violin case that rested on the mantelpiece. “That’s definitely from my

father. He taught me everything I know about music.”

“Will you play for me?” she asked demurely, kissing his bare chest in an enticing

manner.

“Maybe after dinner, I’m so comfortable now I’d hate to move.” He squeezed her ass

and pulled her tightly against him so she’d understand exactly how comfortable, the

wide grin on her face told him she knew. But before he had the chance to kiss her a

soft beeping noise came from the bedroom. “Hang on a moment,” he said as he

rolled her off him and onto the floor before he raced across the room to the

bedroom. Behind the door was a small dresser with a laptop on it. He flicked on the

lamp beside it and moved the mouse to reactivate the screen. With a soft whirr the

machine came to life and he saw a window pop up asking for his password. He typed

it in deftly and then double clicked on the flashing icon in his system tray and

watched as another window popped up.

In that window was digital video footage of the house. The *fridge* he called it

jokingly. But instead of looking at the bodies he was looking into the face of an older

man. Then much to his surprise, a young red haired woman stepped into view and

shone a light on the camera blocking his view altogether. When the footage cut off

he replayed it over and over. He paused it when her face came into view. He took a

still then printed it out before looking at it more closely. Stepping into the living

room he spotted his latest guest lying on the couch eagerly waiting for his return. He

realized that the lust was gone. When there was nothing more to fight for the

passion fizzled out. He looked down at the picture in his hand and then back up to

his companion and decided it was time for a change.

More than one thing he decided. Brunettes? He wondered as he sat next to her and

put an arm around her, brushing her brown curls away from her face. The fridge? He

imagined the FBI crawling through the house and smiled at all the “clues” he’d left

behind as he kissed her neck and moved his lips and tongue up to her cheeks,

covering her face with butterfly kisses. His hands came up to encircle her throat and

even though she was willful and obedient, the image of the red head flashed through

his mind and he squeezed tighter knowing there was nothing to save her now.

***

Carmine’s Restaurant

January 21st 2008

8.30PM

Mulder pushed the food around his plate, twirling more pasta he wouldn’t eat onto

his fork. He wondered why Scully wasn’t commenting on his lack of appetite when he

glanced at her own near full plate. He smiled.

“Hey Scully,” he took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, letting his tongue

appear to grace her knuckles as he did. “Not hungry? But I thought you loved

lasagna?”

“I’m not Garfield Mulder,” she said with a half smile. “I can resist the tempting lure

of meat and cheese.”

“Oh, I’m not sure if I can,” he took a forkful of her dinner and ate it appreciatively

making soft “mmm” noises as he chewed. The restaurant was nearly full but they

managed to get a table in the back corner. Mulder had tried to talk about the case

but with one severe scowl, he dropped the subject and they made idle chatter for the

most part. It soon fizzled out as their thoughts returned to the case and left them

trying to eat in silence. At another table a couple was speaking low and sharing

secrets and Mulder watched as the man patted his inside pocket numerous times. He

wondered if it was a ring nestling in there for his companion but the guy seemed to

lose his nerve as the bill arrived so they both left unengaged. Across the room a

waiter was handing out glasses of champagne to what appeared to be an anniversary

party of some sort. Following him was another waiter playing soft Italian music on

the violin accompanied by a third on the accordion.

It was the perfect scene as if from a Hollywood movie but Mulder couldn’t shake the

tension he was feeling and he knew he was passing it onto Scully. She smiled when

he took her plate and swapped it with his own. It wasn’t enough for him so he pulled

her arm until she was close enough to kiss and he just smiled. Surprised by his

sudden romantic flush she waited for him to finish, watching as he grinned when she

returned it. She closed the short distance between them and kissed him, one hand

resting on his cheek as he tried to hold her closer than the table would allow.

His elbow knocked over a glass of wine, tipping it onto the table and over his lap

making him jump back. With a gasp, he stood up and held the wet part of his pants

away from his groin as the cold and wet sensation tickled his skin.

“See the effect you have on me Scully,” he breathed into her ear as he kissed her

gently before he hurried off to the bathroom to clean up. The champagne waiter and

the accordionist rushed over to help clean up the mess and apologized profusely at

her, but Scully bushed off their regret. She smiled at them, her cheeks flushed from

Mulder’s sudden and unexpected kiss. As they went to the kitchen to get rid of the

wet napkins the third musician approached the table and began to play a soft

romantic tune Scully recognized but couldn’t name. She tried to gesture him away

but he persisted and she had no choice but to listen to the song.

Then she heard it.

Notes of the music matching her heartbeat, crescendo matching her own excitement

as she looked up to the musician’s eyes and was locked by the bright shimmering

shade of green she saw there. As the music stopped Scully stood up and walked

around the table to where the musician was standing.

“That was amazing.” She locked her eyes with his even as he moved the violin away

from his shoulder and held it low by his side.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Me?” Scully blushed at the attention he was lavishing on her.

“But we have to go now, c’mon.” the waiter held a hand and she took it without

hesitation, letting him lead her out of the restaurant.

Mulder stood under the dryer and tried to direct the hot air over his groin. Ignoring

the strange looks he was getting from the various patrons of the restaurant who

passed through, he held his pants up and away from his skin until he got them as

dry as he could. With a quick check in the mirror before leaving the bathroom he

returned to…. an empty table. He wondered if she’d also had taken some spillage on

her suit and figured she was in the ladies restroom, but after a few moments when

she didn’t return Mulder ventured over to the ladies. He knocked the door and

pushed it open a little calling out her name.

“Scully?” but he was met with silence. Trying again he called out but when he got no

reply again he stepped into the room only to find it empty. Back in the restaurant

main room he found the waiter who had served them and asked if he had seen her.

The waiter shrugged.

Mulder took out his cell and dialed her number, but the ringing he heard on the other

end was echoed by the phone ringing in the pocket of her coat that was hanging up

in an open closet behind the maitre’d’s desk. Mulder snatched her coat off the

hanger and pulled out her phone, his heart pummeling into overdrive now as he

scanned the room once again for her.

“Did anyone see the lady I was with?” he asked aloud, wanting someone to notice

her leaving, needing someone to have noticed. He pulled out his badge. “My name is

Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI; I need to know, did anyone see my

companion leaving with someone?”

“Er, I did,” an elderly man spoke up. He was sitting at the table next to them and

was eating a spaghetti dish that had splattered sauce all over the front of his shirt.

“She left about ten minutes ago, just after you raced into the bathroom.”

“Did she walk out alone? Or with someone?”

“It was with one of the waiters.” He pulled out his napkin that had been tucked

futilely into his collar. “The guy with the fiddle.”

The hairs on Mulder’s neck jumped to attention and a cold shiver encased his body at

the older man’s words. Mulder took out his cell and called the case team, ordering

them to get out to the restaurant ASAP. As he spoke on his phone he emerged out

onto the street and looked up and down as if hoping to catch them turning a corner,

even though he knew they’d been gone over 15 minutes at least. More than enough

time to catch a cab and be five or ten miles away by now. He added a roadblock

request and a B.O.L.O to his orders then hung up and returned to the restaurant.

The patrons were watching him with unabashed interest now and the headwaiter

came over to him.

“Is there a problem sir?”

“My partner left with a man who was working here. He was playing the violin with

your waiters. I need his name and address.” Mulder’s anger and fear bubbled just

beneath the surface of his control as the waiter shuffled from foot to foot.

“He plays for us sometimes. We pay him to play for busy nights and he comes and

goes as he pleases.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Of course sir, it’s Jordan Franco. We have a copy of his driver’s license. We need it

you know, for the tax man.”

“Can I see that copy please?” Mulder asked following the waiter into the kitchen and

through into the back office. The space was barely big enough for both of them and

Mulder stood back as the nervous maitre’d searched for the right document. At last

he pulled it out and handed it over.

Mulder looked down at it and saw it held the same information as the one that Agent

Reilly had handed him earlier that day, except for the photo. This man was plumper

than the blond guy on the other Franco’s license. His hair was a light brown shade

and his eyes were a vivid green. His height was still marked at six foot ten and the

weight hadn’t changed but the address on it was different.

“Thank you. I need to keep this.” Mulder left the startled maitre’d behind as he

hurried out to the street and to his car. On the way, he called Agent Reilly and asked

him to get three other agents and meet him at the address from the license. “Full

body armor and no sirens. He’s got Scully. Get there as soon as possible. Call for air

back up too. This is too important to fuck up.” He added, after hanging up and

speeding off. He hadn’t made it ten miles through the city when the phone rang

again. He seized it from his pocket, but instead of the blue LED screen flashing with

an incoming call it was dark and on standby. Instead he realized it was Scully’s

phone ringing. He had taken her stuff from the restaurant and thrown it onto the

passenger seat and now driving over 80 miles an hour through the night traffic in

DC, he reached over and fumbled in her coat pockets until he found the phone.

“Hello?”

“Agent Scully?”

“No it’s Agent Mulder. Who is this?” Mulder barked taking a look at the screen but

not recognizing the number.

“This is Dr Kraft at Quantico. I have some news for Agent Scully.”

“What is it?”

“Well one of the bodies we found wasn’t female. It was male and at the skeletal

stage of decomposition.”

“Male? And you haven’t made identification?”

“No. We are checking for bone anomalies, dental records that might help up but so

far we have found nothing but an unusual wearing in the mandible.”

“The chin bone,” Mulder muttered aloud, swerving the car around a stationary truck

that was blocking the lane and narrowly missing another vehicle. “Will you check the

dental records of Jordan Franco? Agent Reilly will send you the details.”

“Of course.”

***

Cabin

January 21st

11.08 PM

Laughing, Scully took his hand and allowed herself to be led into the rustic cabin.

Smoke billowed from the chimney so she anticipated a large fire in a stone hearth

welcoming them in, and she wasn’t disappointed. The flames were low as no one was

there to stoke the fire but they still warmed up the spacious living room.

“This is beautiful,” she said as she looked dreamily around the room and took it all

in. The overstuffed couch and the deep plush rug, all inviting and homely at the

same time alluring. She held his hand as they moved over to the rug then reached

up to kiss him. He allowed her strong grip to pull him lower and kissed her back. His

hands grasped her hips and pulled her closer as she circled his neck with her arms.

“I knew it could be like this,” he said as he pulled away from her lips and looked into

deeply her eyes, almost mesmerizing in their intensity. She was smiling in that way

that crinkled her eyes and made them shine. “I knew you’d be like this.”

“Did you?”

“Why don’t you ask me to play?”

“You’ll play for me when you are ready. I’d rather hear the music you are eager to

play; rather then something you are playing when I ask you.”

“Thank you.” He bent down and kissed her lips with tenderness then stroked her hair

through his fingers. “You have the most beautiful hair.” Scully blushed under his

scrutiny but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. “Take off your clothes.”

As if miles away, Scully reached up to her top and peeled it off over her head,

cursing herself for having put on so many layers that morning. She dropped the

sweater to the couch and started to undo the buttons of her blouse until it was

slipping from her shoulders with ease. As she reached to her side to unzip her skirt,

his hands stalled her and slowly trailed the metal zipper down until the silky material

of her half slip slid against her legs, pooling by her feet. She was wearing stockings

that reached up to mid thigh and he bent down on his knees to slowly unroll them off

her, his eyes holding hers like a vice.

She lifted each foot in turn for him to take the stockings off completely, resting her

hands on his shoulders as he stood before her again.

“Your turn,” she whispered with a smile as she reached up to undo his shirt. It was a

white shirt with a stiff front collar that he was wearing at the restaurant. Part of the

waiter’s uniform she figured, where he was playing the violin. Her stomach gave a

small rumble and she realized she was hungry, but it didn’t make sense if they had

just come from a restaurant. But then she remembered that she hadn’t had the

appetite for her lasagna — Mulder had taken her meal and had passed the plate with

the garlic chicken penne to her. Then he kissed her.

Her fingers stalled on the bottom buttons, she frowned. Something was wrong but

she wasn’t sure what. She gazed up to the man’s eyes and saw a question lingering

there then as she blinked and looked around. He took her face in his hands and

made her look at him again.

“Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird ein netz gesponnen.

Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt,” he whispered as his lips came

down to meet hers. “Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird

ein netz gesponnen. Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt.”

***

Point Lookout Rd

January 21st 2008

11.15PM

Mulder pulled up by the perimeter that had been cordoned off. He killed the engine

and had jumped out before the car had stopped fully, barely engaging the hand

brake. Two SWAT members sat in the back arranging the weapons that were

mounted and double checking them.

Agent Reilly saw Mulder frantic approach and raced over, tossing him a Kevlar vest

as he called his name.

“The male corpse belonged to Jordan Franco,” he confirmed as Mulder strapped the

vest on and ran with Reilly to the command vehicle which had been set up. There

was an open map of the area on the hood.

“So what’s going on here?”

“Thermal imaging gives us two bodies in the lower floor. Two exits, one front and

one at the rear but that back exit seems to be in a different room. There are no

lights on in the cabin but a fire’s been lit and what little power is being used is

coming from a generator that seems to be buried under the porch at the rear.”

“What about an ID?”

“This residence is registered to Damien Willis but that’s all we got. No photo and no

other information.”

“Well whoever he is,” Mulder said taking out his gun and checking the clip before

slapping it back into place, “he has Agent Scully.”

Reilly didn’t need to reply so he just checked his own gun and waited for Mulder to

signal the team ready.

The Agents assembled around Mulder and he shouted out orders and directions for

everyone to take. Within seconds the team scattered as they moved slowly toward

the cabin en mass.

Running along side Reilly, Mulder was crouched low and willing his footsteps to be

silent. They reached the side of a car and slid into place beside the wheels.

“How the hell did you get here so fast?” Mulder asked, wanting to check his gun

again but resisting the urge.

Reilly smiled. He pointed at the SWAT team van with his gun. “We hitched a lift. Got

here about three minutes before you and did a quick surveillance.”

“Thanks.” Mulder said, catching the younger Agents eye and pouring all his sincerity

into the simple word. Without another mention Mulder jumped up and scurried

towards the cabin. He felt Reilly on his heels and they both fell against the wall of

the cabin beneath a window, waiting for the dust to settle. Small flashes from other

Agents maglights told him that everyone was in position so Mulder rose up enough to

peer in the window. The blinds hung lower than the sill. He could see nothing but

distorted shadows moving around in the firelight.

With nothing to see and no time to waste, Mulder gestured for action and crawled to

the door way with Agent Reilly. Coming from the other direction, also hugging the

walls were two SWAT members, one of which had the portable door ram, something

SWAT members call the skeleton key to the city. The officer held the ram against the

door then swung it back with all his might, the door burst open. The other SWAT

member, followed by Mulder and Reilly piled in after him only to greeted by Scully

who was pointing a gun at them all.

“FREEZE!” SWAT guy called as he circled the room, strafing against the wall, gun

trained on Scully now who was shielding a man behind her. She stood with her back

to the fire wearing only her bra and panties, her legs apart as she strengthened her

stance, her arms held out rigidly with the gun firmly aimed at them.

“Take that gun off me!” she shouted, her gun wavering between the three men who

entered. “Take it off me or so help me…”

“You gonna shoot all of us sweetheart?” the SWAT guy laughed as he circled and

stood directly across from Reilly, who was moving in the opposite direction. Only

Mulder had remained still, his gun trained on his partner but without conviction.

“Scully,” his voice was low and trembling but he was spoken over by the man that

was standing behind her. He was too close to her, his hands on her slim waist, his

face close by her ear. He was speaking but Mulder couldn’t make out what he was

saying; only the rhythm of the words and the effect they had on her. “No Scully,

don’t listen to him. Listen to me.”

Scully’s gun swung back to point at Mulder’s head. Her aim was impeccable and he

knew she would hit whatever she was aiming for. Mulder decided to lower his gun.

He dropped it to the floor and kicked it away. It slid across the carpet and came to

rest next to a closet far from anyone’s easy reach.

“Listen to my voice. You don’t need to do this,” he said trying with all his effort to

keep his voice calm, when all the time inside he was shaking. He had come in here

dreading a shootout; afraid that a bullet might find her before he could get her out of

here. Now faced with her shooting back at him, that threw him for a loop, hurt him.

He took a step closer to her but she took a step back, deeper into that man’s arms

and Mulder seethed at the sight of them encircling her waist, to hold her against him.

“Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird ein netz gesponnen.

Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt.”

This time Mulder heard the hypnotic words but he didn’t understand them.

“Scully, look at me,” Mulder pleaded, realizing that the man’s words were changing

her. His words were controlling her beyond her will. As if they were imparting a new

will upon her that she was unable to overwrite with her own, break free. “Listen to

my voice and remember who I am.”

“Get those damn guns off me.” She yelled, looking crazed at Reilly and the SWAT

guys who were either side of her but keeping her gun on Mulder. Both men looked to

Mulder for verification and he nodded sharply, giving the signal for them to back off.

Slowly the two men withdrew, guns still trained until they were out the door. Mulder

knew they were outside, watching through thermal imaging, snipers and the rest of

the SWAT team crawling all over the land. All he cared about was the heartbreaking

fact that Scully was leaning back against another man as if she was draining strength

from him.

“They’re gone, it’s just us now,” he said quietly, his hands held up in supplication.

Scully moved away from the fire and out of the circle of Franco’s arms, she

approached Mulder and walked around him.

“You have this aura…powerful aura,” she said as she walked, the gun still pointed at

him but Mulder’s eyes watched the other man.

“Damien Willis,” he said, enjoying the mild look of surprise that crossed the

stranger’s face.

“So you finally figured it out?” Damien barked as he approached with open arms

which Scully gladly fell into, kissing Damien on the lips with pleasure. Mulder cringed

and felt a wave of rage well up inside him. Suddenly something snapped. He wasn’t

sure if it was the sight of her in another man’s arms or the look of enjoyment on her

face when she kissed him, but Mulder couldn’t take it anymore. He lunged at them

both and the three of them fell into a pile on the hearth just missing the fire. Scully

yelled out as her hand got caught beneath them all, squashing the gun from her

hand, her wrist twisting with an ungodly snap. Mulder grabbed Damien by the collar,

hefting him over using his shoulder for leverage until he had him on the floor

beneath him. Rather than the grimace Mulder was expecting Damien was laughing.

“You thinking this will work?” he mocked as Mulder punched him. “She will fight for

me!”

Before Mulder could punch him again he felt an excruciating crack on the back of his

head. Through pain bright flashes in his vision he turned to see Scully wielding the

butt of the gun after cold cocking him with it. He wondered briefly why she hadn’t

shot him then decided that maybe a part of her was still aware and he was getting

through to her. With his skull against her gun maybe but at least he wasn’t dead.

Dizzy and feeling sick, Mulder turned his attention back to Damien and punched him

again making him spit blood and coughing on it as it trickled down his throat.

“Reilly,” Mulder shouted as he held Damien down by the shoulders and waited for

Reilly to reenter the cabin but before he could he felt the barrel of Scully’s gun

against his head. She wrapped her other arm around her partner’s neck pulling him

off the violinist, choking the breath out of him as she dragged him back, her strength

surprising even him.

Damien rolled over onto his side, coughing up more blood before he got up on all

fours only to be greeted by Reilly, who slammed the butt of his rifle into his temple

making him drop to the floor.

“Put the gun down agent Scully!” Reilly ordered, now pointing the rifle at her.

“What did you do!” she screamed, pushing the gun harder against Mulder’s temple.

“What did you do to him?”

“Scully,” Mulder wheezed trying to grip her arm enough to move it off his larynx but

she was holding him too tightly. “Scully wait, listen to me.”

“Shut up! Everyone shut the hell up for a minute!” the look in her eyes was wild and

scared and Mulder feared for her next actions. Due to his lack of oxygen it was

making it hard for him to think. His eyes watered and his could feel himself blacking

out. Then he noticed Damien crawling along the floor towards the closet where

Mulder had dropped his gun. He tried to call out to Reilly but his voice was lost

against the pressure of her arm and he was too late.

Damien grasped the gun and rolling onto his back, fired off two rounds into Reilly,

hitting his knee and shoulder, dropping the agent to the ground in agony. Then he

turned the gun on Mulder and smiled.

“Harken alle ye elemente. Aus meinen neigungen heraus wird ein netz gesponnen.

Von diesem vorabend weiter, ist mein wille erfolgt,”

he said laughing catching Scully’s eye but instead of compliance he saw there only

confusion.

“Sie haben keine energie über mir,” Scully muttered and with the same swift motion

she dropped her arm from around Mulder’s throat and pointed her gun at Damien.

“You have no power over me.”

She shot him in the chest twice; two quick shots making him fall back motionless.

Then walking up to him she shot him again in the neck, the bullet cutting his jugular

and killing him instantly.

“Scully,” Mulder rasped one hand on his raw throat and the other reaching out to her

but she made no move to approach him.

The SWAT members came in at the shots and were pointing his gun at Scully but

Mulder called out for him not to shoot. He struggled to his feet and carefully

advanced towards her. He was afraid to touch her lest she turn and shoot so he

circled to her front and held his hand out to her.

“Scully,” he said gently waiting for her to look up to him. Her eyes were fixed on

Damien her gun still pointing at him. “Scully, give me the gun.”

As if waking from a dream she fluttered her eyes and they seemed to dull a little

with the realization of what she had just been through. Her grip on the gun loosened

and she let it fall to the floor, only then the SWAT guys lowered their guns and

started to assess the scene.

“Scully, look at me,” he said his voice low and shaky.

“Mulder?” she looked around the room, as if she was blind and seeing nothing but

Mulder knew better than that. He knew she wasn’t seeing the room as it was now

but as it had been when she was in Damien’s arms, kissing his lips. And he needed

to take her away from that. He saw her top on the couch and hurried over to get it.

He draped it over her shoulders and led her out to an awaiting ambulance.

The EMT officer checked her over and tried to tell her that she’d need a full cast on

her arm, Xrays and a visit to the ER but after he put on the temporary splint she

shuffled away, the blanket from the gurney draped tightly around her shoulders.

“Hey,” he said following her unsure of where she was going. “How are you feeling?”

he asked the words sounding trite and forced when all he wanted to do was bundle

her up and take her away from this scene.

“I feel messed up.” She looked up to him but found it hard to connect with his eyes.

Knowing she had kissed Damien, hugged him and protected him, while threatening

the man she loved was shaking her very core. “How are you?” she asked focusing

her attention on the bruising that was starting to appear on his neck from her

choking him.

“I’m fine…. Headache.” Taking her hands, he lifted them up to his face where he

planted soft kisses in each of her palms but she still couldn’t look at him. A soft

cough behind him tore his attention away from her and he turned to see AD Skinner

waiting for him a few feet away. He’d couldn’t remember when their superior had

arrived on the scene.

Mulder took his car keys out of his pocket and ordered her to go there and wait for

him while he spoke to Skinner. He watched her walk away, the blanket trailing

behind her, her steps slow and unsteady but he had to finish this scene so he could

take her home. It took longer than he had hoped to finish cleaning up the scene and

finally, Skinner ordered him to take his partner home. He hurried over to his car

where he found her asleep.

A wave of dizziness hit him and as luck would have it, right as Skinner looked his

way. Before he knew it, a wet behind the ears young Agent was taking the keys

from his hand and helping him into the back seat with his partner. The young man

ran to the driver’s site, got in and started the engine.

They were ten minutes from their place when Scully suddenly awoke and she

struggled to remember where she was, panicking for a minute until she felt his hand

on hers and caught his eyes. Relaxing back into the seat she covered her face with

her hands and sighed.

“What happened Mulder?” she asked through her hands still refusing to hold his

gaze.

“I don’t know.”

“No Mulder you have to know. You have to have a theory — an idea, a spooky notion

that will explain why I did what I did.”

Mulder couldn’t form the words he had inside to explain why she was kissing another

man. The mere thought of it boiled his blood so he couldn’t reply. His silence was

enough to engulf her guilt and she leaned forward to bury her face in her hands.

Mulder’s head was pounding and he concentrated on their young driver, mentally

wishing he would speed up a little and just get them home.

When they pulled up outside the duplex he crawled out first and reached back to

help her out of the car. Once in the house he took her in his arms and held her. She

didn’t push him away but neither did she reciprocate his embrace.

“You want to know why Scully?” he said still holding her his words tickling her hair.

“Why you kissed him?” she didn’t reply but he had to continue. Had to finish this

tonight before it festered into something ugly. His mind ticked over and he realized

he wasn’t making a theory to fit this crime, he wasn’t developing it to help him

understand, but to help her. She needed a reason that was out of her control. “I

think he was using a form of hypnotism. Implanting thoughts into your head and

making you do things for him that you wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

“But I don’t put any weight into hypnotism.” It was a feeble argument and he could

tell she knew by the lack of conviction in her voice, as if she were saying lines from a

play.

“That doesn’t matter.” He held her away from him. “The fact is he played a song like

some kind of pied piper and you followed him.”

“I followed him out of the restaurant.” Her face was a picture of surprised

recollection as he remembered what had happened and how it had all began.

“And I followed you.”

She looked up to him and held his eyes. Nothing but love shone behind them and her

resolve crumpled.

“I’m so sorry Mulder,” she said behind a sob as she gripped him closer to her.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He kissed the top of her head then led her over to the

couch where he sat down and cuddled her close to his chest.

“Dr Kraft has identified thirty-four of the bodies,” he said after a moment. “All the

families are being notified tonight.”

“What about the rest?”

“Still searching. Skinner said they found a laptop in the cabin. Forensics will see if

they can get anything off it.”

He rubbed her arms and kissed the top of her head and soon he felt her relax against

him, her breathing even and slow signaling her sleep. He thought of moving her to

the bedroom but he was content to just hold her against him for a little while longer.

Moments later the phone rang and Mulder reached over his head to the coffee table

to grab it before it woke her.

“Mulder,” he said as quietly as he could as he extracted himself from her to walk

away.

“Agent Mulder.”

“Sir, are you still at the scene?” Mulder asked checking his watch and seeing it was

just after three in the morning.

“No. I’m back at the lab with the tech guys but I have something you need to know.

Can you access your email? I want to send you something.”

“What is it?” Mulder was in the kitchen now, filling the kettle and plugging it in as he

spoke, checking over his shoulder to make sure Scully was still asleep. He spotted

his laptop on the under shelf of the coffee table so he grabbed it and booted it up on

the kitchen counter.

“Damien Willis.”

“What about him?” Mulder’s heart stopped and his mind brought forth the picture of

him lying on the cabin floor, blood pouring from the bullet wound in his neck and his

eyes open and glassy with death.

“It wasn’t him.”

“What?”

“The body at the cabin was identified as Harold Freedman through dental records. He

was incarcerated in 2005 for eight months for a petty crime and therefore couldn’t

have murdered some of the women we found at the house in Bethesda.”

The words swam over Mulder’s brain swimming around making him nauseous at the

thought. There was more than one? He wasn’t working alone? His partner was still

out there somewhere? This was too much. It had to be Willis. He had hoped that

Kraft would ring with the information that Willis’s skeleton had been found among

the bodies but it had been nearly 20 hours since they had begun that process and

surely they would have figured that out by now. Instead Mulder was left feeling

hollow that this case wasn’t one that would sink back into the woodwork after the

arrest was made. This was one that would forever haunt him.

“There is something else though,” Skinner continued. “I just sent you a jpeg I found

on the laptop we confiscated from the cabin.”

Mulder opened his email and watched as the progress bar moved agonizingly slowly

across the centre of the screen as his email client received the picture. Eventually it

popped open and Mulder looked at the picture of a trio of musicians. In the center of

them was Damien or rather Harold Freedman as he had been correctly identified. All

three of them were wearing tuxedos and each of them held violins by their sides, the

bows held aloft and all of them were smiling.

“Harold Freedman, Damien Willis and Jordan Franco.”

“They all knew each other?”

“They were a traveling three piece ensemble. Moved around DC and New York

performing at functions and private shows.”

“So where is Damien Willis now?” he asked knowing that Skinner wouldn’t have the

answer to that question but needing to ask it.

“He went off the map in 2005.”

“Do you think he’s dead?”

His question was met with silence and he knew the answer himself so he didn’t need

his boss to confirm it. If Damien Willis was dead and killed by Freedman then his

body would have been found among the others in Bethesda.

He hung up without realizing it and walked over to Scully. Waking her enough to

walk her up the stairs to the bedroom he undressed her and slipped her beneath the

covers then joined her and held her close. His arms wrapped around her and he kept

his grip tight around her waist but his eyes refused to close and his mind refused to

slow down.

This was a case that was going to take more than its fair share from his life but he

wouldn’t allow it to destroy that which he loved most. If he had any power left within

him he would fight to the death for her.

June 9, 2008

Three Globes Pawn Shop

Rockville, MD

“You’re crazy, you know,” the young man said to his friend as they looked over the

wares in display cases.

“No, man. It’s true. My dad found a really cool watch in one of these places.”

“Sure,” his friend said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it was a Rolex.”

“Hey, there! Look, that’s what I’m talking about!” He pointed up to something

hanging on the wall. “Hey, can we take a look at that?”

The elderly proprietor nodded enthusiastically. With the help of a short step ladder,

he brought down the item, handing it gingerly to the young man. “It just came in

this week. A real beauty. It has a case. Do you play?”

The young man ran his hand over the polished wood of the violin. “Not yet. But I

want to learn.” He lightly plucked one of the strings. Closing his eyes, he imagined

he heard the notes of a song and someone speaking a language he didn’t recognize.

He opened his eyes to find his friend staring at him, the proprietor waiting patiently.

“I’ll take it.”

The End.

Skinfull 2008.

1

Title: Paratio Parasitus

Author: Starfleetofficer1

Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate an unusual spike in deaths due to a brain-

eating amoeba.

Category: X-file

Rating: PG-13

Two weeks exclusive with VS15.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I also don’t intend to insult Florida,

the Miami-Dade county, the Everglades National Park office, or anyone else that I

mentioned in this fanfiction.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

LONG PINE KEY CAMPGROUND

EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, FL

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 29th, 2007

1400

“Come on, Willie, wake up. Please, wake up, Willie. Please.” Jed Kirsten hovered

over his son in their tent, wiping his sweat-soaked brow with a dirty hand towel. The

ten-year-old had a high fever, and had been suffering from a headache for the past

three days. It was only after the third day and the fever spike that Jed realized he

had to bring his son to an official campground.

The rifle was hidden inside Jed’s sleeping bag, and Willie lay on top of his own. The

boy was much too hot to cover up, Jed reasoned. He had undressed his son down to

his boxer shorts to make him more comfortable in the 65º weather. The 80%

humidity was what killed it—65 was remarkably chilly for these parts.

Gator hunting had been one of Jed’s favorite activities since he was Willie’s age, and

since Willie’s mother died, it had been a way to escape. So what if it was illegal? He

had lived around the Everglades his entire life and he’d be damned if he let some

stupid rules issued from a fat-ass behind a desk get in the way of his fun. And

lately, the Gators had been spotted later and later in the year, as the temperatures

got hotter.

But during this trip, while they hid from authorities in makeshift chickees and

abandoned ground sites, Willie had taken ill. The headache, the fever, and now

this…his little boy wouldn’t wake up. He lay motionless on the sleeping bag,

oblivious to the mosquitoes, humid, damp, and swampy air, and most of all, his

father’s pleas.

“Please, Willie,” Jed begged, but got no response. “Don’t make me go to the

authorities…don’t make me go to the god-damned park rangers, please, Willie, just

wake up!”

He felt for a pulse, and found that there was none.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, no…” he breathed. He started pounding on Willie’s chest. He

didn’t know CPR, but he knew some kind of compression might get things going

again. Then he’d go to a ranger, he’d go to the police, he’d turn himself into the FBI

if he had to—just as long as Willie woke up. He opened Willie’s mouth and breathed

into it, but nothing happened. He kept pounding on the little boy’s chest until

bruises formed, tears streaming down his cheeks and hitting his son’s uncovered

body. He collapsed onto the ten-year-old, sobbing uncontrollably.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING

WASHINGTON, D.C.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2007

0830

“No! I did not order a pizza-pattern 12-foot by 12-foot throw rug! I don’t even have

room for that kind of thing! What do I want you to do with it?” Mulder looked up,

and saw Scully enter the office. “Take it back to whatever dollar store it came from!”

Scully raised an eyebrow, but Mulder didn’t acknowledge her.

“I don’t care if it came from an expensive furniture store—no, I’m not anywhere near

my residence. I’m at work. You do realize you’re calling me at work? No, I know

you have a job to do, and I know it isn’t your fault, but take the damn thing back

and read the name on the order.”

There was a pause, and Mulder moved the phone so the receiver was up against his

neck. “I’m on hold. You didn’t order a pizza pattern throw rug, did you, Scully?”

Scully smirked. “Does it come with the pizza?”

Mulder shook his head. “No, it probably comes with fleas. Yes! Yes, I’m still here,”

he said into the phone. “No, it’s definitely not alright with me if you leave it outside

my door. Read me the name on the order. No—read me the name on the order.

Mm-hmm. See, there’s your problem. My name isn’t Mudler, it’s Mulder. There’s a

Frank Mudler living down the street—you probably got his house number and mine

mixed up.”

Scully’s smirk didn’t go away, much to Mulder’s annoyance.

“Because I get his mail all the time!” Mulder yelled into the phone. “Look, if I get

home, and that thing’s sitting outside my door, I’m gonna lodge a formal complaint

to your manager. Yeah, that’s right. Take it down the street to Frank Mudler.

Thank you. Goodbye.” Mulder flipped his cell phone closed and put it in its holster.

“My God, that took forever.”

“How did they get your phone number?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “It’s probably on

some practical joke list. Pizza throw rug. I’ve imagined more attractive things at a

senior center.”

Scully grinned, and said, “Watch it, Mulder, it won’t be long before you’re there.”

“Ouch!” Mulder said, grabbing his chest just over his heart and gasping in mock pain.

He walked over to Scully and pulled her into a sudden, passionate kiss. “Still think

I’m old?” He asked when he was done.

She seemed to be contemplating her response. “Eh…getting there,” she teased.

“You’re so dead,” he said playfully, and she quickly dodged him and went to her

desk.

“Not at work, Mulder,” she warned him.

“We’ve got no case file.”

“We’re still at work.”

“Nowhere to go, nothing to do…” Mulder sat on his desk and twiddled his thumbs.

“C’mon, we could easily shut the door and—”

“Agent Mulder? Agent Scully?” A familiar voice asked.

They both turned instantly, embarrassed to have been caught so completely off

guard. “Yes, Sir,” Mulder asked as Skinner walked in. He was carrying a folder.

“I have a case for you. It’s actually more for Agent Scully.” He handed her the

folder, and she opened it and began looking at pictures. Mulder looked curiously

between his partner and the A.D. “I’m sure you’re aware of the amoeba that feeds

on brain cells.”

“It was discovered in the 1960s. There’ve only been a few cases of deaths due to

the amoeba, but it enters through the nasal cavity and begins feeding on the brain,”

Scully said absently as she looked at the pictures.

Mulder looked like he was about to make a wise-crack about brain-sucking

microscopic parasites, but Skinner stopped him before he could. “There have been

fifteen cases in Florida in the past three weeks. They’re beginning to wonder if

something may have accelerated the amoeba’s growth, to exit the Everglades and

reach the surrounding area. Miami Dade police are especially concerned about the

threat of rioting, once people realize what they may be at risk for. Because of your

medical expertise, Scully, I’m assigning both of you to figure out what’s accelerated

the amoeba’s growth. And Agent Mulder, I’m sure you can find something in the X-

files that may shed some light on this…?”

The agent was slightly confused. “Sir…I have to admit, the brain-eating amoeba

sounds like an X-file, but it’s already been scientifically identified and scientists are

currently looking for a way to kill it. While odd, the amoeba isn’t unexplainable, and

it isn’t an X-file,” Mulder said. “I think it’s better suited for the Centers for Disease

Control.”

“The CDC looked it over and sent it to us…they’re puzzled and apparently too busy,”

Skinner said, obviously annoyed with the CDC’s disposition.

“No…Mulder, I think it is an X-file,” Scully said. She showed him the photographs,

and he shook his head. She realized he still didn’t understand. “Four of the victims

are doctors that treated the first few victims. Another three victims are nurses.

They’re all employees at hospitals in downtown Miami, where the victims were

airlifted for treatment. They were all present when the time of death was called for

the first victims…”

Comprehension washed over Mulder’s face. “It wasn’t contagious before, was it?”

“No, not like this. It’s usually transmitted by water droplets, through the nose.

When you’re underwater, or when you get splashed in the face, you’re at risk for

contracting it. But otherwise, no. I think it’s found a way to transmit itself directly

to another host, using only air as a medium.”

“But doesn’t that imply higher-level reasoning?”

“No, not necessarily. But it does imply natural selection, and definite evolution. We

might not even be looking at the same amoeba.”

Skinner stopped them before they got any further. “So you think you can handle

this?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mulder said, answering for Scully only because he knew her response.

“Good. My…a good friend of mine was one of the victims,” Skinner admitted.

Mulder realized at that point why the A.D. had been acting so nervous, so uneasy

about this case. Now it made sense. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he said.

Skinner nodded, and turned toward the door. “You should get to Florida as soon as

possible,” he said as he left.

Mulder glanced at Scully. “I hear Florida’s nice this time of year.”

Scully almost snorted. “Just the right temperature for brain-eating parasites.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

LONG PINE KEY NATIONAL PARK OFFICE

EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, FL

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2007

1800

“No, we’ve already been to the Dade County Sheriff’s department, and we’ve seen

the evidence. We just wanted to talk to someone here,” Mulder argued.

“No one’s available,” the rather stout and annoyed park ranger said on his way out

the door.

“We can wait!” Mulder yelled after him, but he was already gone. They were left

alone in the office.

“Aren’t these things supposed to be manned all the time?” Scully asked, looking

around at the empty building.

“Supposed to be,” Mulder agreed, and led the way toward the door. “We’ll come

back. I think we should get back to the sheriff’s office and talk with the detective

again.”

“First we should get dinner. I’m starving.”

“We’ll pick something up on—”

“Mulder,” Scully warned.

“Okay, okay, we’ll find someplace to sit down. I value my life.”

She snorted as they got into their car. They had come all the way out here for

nothing, and there had to be a reason for the park rangers’ stand-offish nature.

“They’re hiding something, Scully,” Mulder said once they were on their way.

“The cat’s already out of the bag on the brain-eating amoebas,” Scully offered.

“No—there’s a reason why the attacks have escalated, and I think they know why.”

“We have no evidence to suggest they had any inclination as to why—”

“Where did he go?”

“Where did who go?”

“The park ranger. When he left the office. Where did he go? He went out the door

and he walked straight toward our car, then made a sharp right and disappeared

behind the office, into the Everglades. He took a flashlight with him, and his rifle,

and that was it. Have any idea what he’s doing out there, Scully?”

“No, but Mulder, we—”

“We need to find out.”

“We just got here!”

“And this might be our only chance.”

“We need protective gear if we’re going in. We’re not dressed properly, we don’t

have a rifle, we have no idea which direction he went, we don’t know this territory,

we have nothing to throw to gators if they happen to smell us, and we haven’t eaten

in seven hours, Mulder. There’s no way we can go into the woods. Mulder, turn the

car around. I’m serious!”

He looked at her. “This is our one chance to figure out what they know. He went

somewhere, Scully. Abandoned his post to get somewhere very quickly.”

“And he’ll probably abandon it again to get somewhere equally as quickly. But we’ll

come back. Prepared. We need a map of the Everglades, possibly a guide, a rifle

and bait for gators, we’ll need the proper equipment and biohazard suits if we end up

wading in water.”

Mulder frowned. “Bio-hazard suits?”

“These amoebas are breathed in. That’s how they get into your system. If you’re

wading in water, and water splashes up your nose, you’re at a greater risk for

infection. I’m not disagreeing that we should figure out what they know—”

“You’re not?” Mulder asked, surprised.

“Well, no, I think—”

“You’re not objecting to us going into the Everglades and wading through muck and

dirt in search of something you don’t think is even there?” Mulder asked skeptically.

“You should know me better than that by now, Mulder. You know I want to figure

out what they’re hiding as much as you do.”

“A minute ago you weren’t convinced they were hiding anything,” Mulder argued, as

he turned the car around and headed back toward the city.

“The more I think about it…Mulder, the results from the lab that we saw in the

sheriff’s department. The detective showed the results to us. The latest victims had

something in common—they had all camped in the campground or treated those who

had. We knew that already. What we didn’t realize is that they probably bought the

water at the National Park office.”

“Scully—really? This is huge. If this thing is transmitted by water, then—”

“I know, and I didn’t get a sample.”

“We have to go back, then,” Mulder insisted.

Scully hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay. But we still don’t have the

necessary equipment. We go in and get the water, and leave. We’re not going into

the Everglades.”

“Of course not,” he said, but Scully recognized that look in his eye. He had made

some kind of connection, bigger than the one she had made, and they had only been

in Florida for the past eight hours. She couldn’t stop him now. All she could hope to

do was rein him in enough to keep up, so they could solve this together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

LONG PINE KEY NATIONAL PARK OFFICE

EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, FL

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2007

1830

“Hello? We’re back—we forgot something,” Scully called, as they let themselves in.

The front door was open. “Hello? Is anyone here?” No one answered, and so they

walked over to the cooler where water was being sold.

“What made you remember the water, Scully?” Mulder asked curiously.

“I remember reading the autopsy report on what was in their stomachs, and I knew

they consumed large amounts of water. They were camping. Then I saw the water

while we were just here…” she picked up a bottle. “It’s a great price, and it’s

obviously worth checking out.”

He nodded, and moved away from where she was. He walked behind the desk, and

Scully looked at him disapprovingly. “Mulder, what are you doing?”

“Just checking out a few things…there it is.” He ejected the security tape pulled up a

chair, searching through the shelf of security tapes until he found the ones that

corresponded to the dates that victims checked in. He stuck the first one in the

machine.

“Mulder, if they come back—”

“Watch the door, then, Scully.”

She groaned. She couldn’t believe him. He was doing it again.

“You must not think they’re coming back for a while.”

“It’s a hunch,” he explained.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Scully,” Mulder said with a smile, “I’m never wrong.”

She rolled her eyes, and walked over to the door. She kept watch, eventually

needing to get a chair and sit down. It had been a long day. No one came for at

least an hour. Mulder had fast-forwarded through three security tapes and was on

his fourth.

“What do you hope to find?” Scully asked.

“Something indicating that these people bought the water, or anything from this

ranger station.”

“Or…?” she continued, knowing from his tone that there was more.

“Or evidence to suggest that the park rangers are going outside with something

unusual.”

“You really think they’re responsible?”

“They know something,” Mulder repeated himself.

Scully was quiet for a few moments. “Have you found anything?” She asked

eventually.

“One park ranger in particular seems to have a ritual of eating his sandwich at

exactly 12:15 every afternoon, and another sneaks a portable TV under the desk at

the beginning of his shift every morning, but nothing other than that.”

She sighed. “Mulder, we need to get back and test this water sample.”

“Hang on, I’ve got a few more of these to go through.”

“What makes you think they’re going to be gone much longer?”

“They’ve been gone for over an hour, Scully. They’re doing something out there,

and we’re going to find out what. As soon as we have the proper gear. In the mean

time, I see no reason why we can’t take advantage of the opportunity—”

He was cut off by Scully’s cell phone ringing. She instantly plucked it out of her

pocket and answered it. “Scully.”

“Agent Scully, this is Detective Harris. We’ve got something at the Sheriff’s office

that you’re gonna want to look at.”

“Alright, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Thanks for letting us know.”

“No problem. See you in a few.”

She didn’t bother to tell Detective Harris that it would be more than ‘a few’ at the

rate they were going. “Come on, Mulder,” she said as she hung up the phone.

“We’ve got to go. They’ve got something at the sheriff’s department that they want

us to see.”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Mulder sighed, and popped the tape out. He put today’s tape back in the machine,

and activated the camera again.

“What’s going to happen when they look at that tape and figure out that we were

trespassing?” Scully asked.

“They won’t look at it. They’re not going to care, Scully. Whatever it is that’s

occupying them, it’s got their complete and undivided attention.”

Scully rolled her eyes, and led the way out the door. They got in their car and drove

off in the dark, neither one of them seeing the park ranger emerge from the woods

with one of his colleagues. They were laboriously carrying a large, mysterious

cooler.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

DADE COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

MIAMI, FL

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2007

2045

“What’ve you got for us, Detective Harris?” Mulder asked immediately upon meeting

the man in the lobby. He was young, a new homicide detective probably on one of

his first cases. His brown curly hair was cropped relatively short, and he wore a

sweater vest over his Oxford shirt and tie. He was the only one without a uniform

who wore a tie at all.

“One of our officers found traces of fertilizer on one of the victim’s hands.”

“Which victim?” Scully asked as they proceeded through the modern building to their

destination.

“One of the city dwellers. Adam Rozinski. I did a background check on him; he

recently joined a club called The Fraternity…it’s an independent organization

contained to the city. We’re planning to send someone out tomorrow to question

some of the people in this club about his daily routine. He has no family and he’s

unemployed. We have no way of knowing how this guy might have contracted the

amoeba.”

Scully nodded. “We’ll go with your people tomorrow,” she said.

Mulder spoke up. “What do you think the fertilizer will tell us, Detective?”

“We had the compound analyzed, Agent Mulder. It’s a very distinct combination of

chemicals, only found in one brand and only made in one location in Miami.”

“If we go to that location, we might find another amoeba danger spot and that’ll

enable us to bring biohazard teams in,” Scully explained. “As it stands, the only

conceivable explanation for this outbreak is that there are multiple origin points for a

rapidly growing and mutating entity. The amoeba couldn’t spread so fast without

different points of origin. The more of them we have, the better our chances are of

eradicating it.”

Mulder nodded. “Is there a possibility that Rozinski was working on a bomb?

Fertilizer’s a well-known ingredient for home-made bombs. Do you know anything

else about him, Detective?”

“He doesn’t have a record. He was orphaned at age eight. Only child, raised in

foster care, never got a job. Twenty-three years old, declared bankruptcy already

and has been living off of food stamps and welfare until he got involved with the

club. They’ve helped him considerably. Seems like a kid just trying to get by, to

me,” Harris said. “But then, things aren’t often as they seem.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mulder said with a smile.

“Have you already completed the autopsy, Detective?” Scully asked.

“Our coroner, Alexi, she’s gotten through the preliminary steps. She was about to

make a Y-incision when I left twenty minutes ago. If you want to get down there,

Dr. Scully, I’d recommend you hurry.”

“I’m gonna run ahead, Mulder,” Scully said.

“Go for it. We’ll catch up,” Mulder accepted, and watched as she jogged in the other

direction, toward the elevator. Then he turned to Harris, and continued their brief

journey to a small room with a microscope in the center.

Harris gestured toward the projector on the far end of the room, and Mulder stood

off to the side while the younger man activated the computer. A moment later, they

were staring at a background check on Rozinski. “If you see anything that might

shed some light on how he contracted the amoeba, Agent Mulder, please divulge.

Sheriff Carr is very eager to get to the bottom of this one.”

“I can imagine,” Mulder said absently, looking at the blown-up version of Rozinski’s

record. He scanned the entire thing, looking for something that stood out. Then he

saw it. “This date, November 29th, he was caught trespassing on National Park

property,” Mulder said.

“Yeah…it was just him being stupid. I pulled up the record and it’s the only charge

we have against him. He claims he was going to try to light off some firecrackers.

Or rather, he had lit off some firecrackers. By the time we got there, there weren’t

any left. Stupid kid. Nothing to do.”

“One of the recent outbreaks we have on file as an anomaly is Willie Kirsten, a ten-

year-old boy brought into the hospital by his father, who claims they were illegally

camping—”

“That translates to gator-hunting, Agent Mulder,” the detective interrupted.

“Whatever they were doing, they were doing it on November 29th. Willie’s infection,

we believe, caused four more infections resulting in death. All four were hospital

workers.”

“You think Rozinski might have something to do with that?”

“I think it’s a coincidence we can’t ignore. I want you to cross-check all the other

victims for any connection to other victims, other than treating them. If they were in

the park at the same day, if they were next-door neighbors or worked together—

anything that would put them in close proximity. But I want you to especially pay

attention to cases where one victim was trespassing on property another victim was

occupying right before the outbreak.”

Harris nodded. “Of course,” he said.

“I’ll help you until my partner’s done.”

“Sounds good. Let’s pull up those files and get going.”

A few hours and six pieces of pizza later, Mulder saw Scully walk past their room,

back up, and enter. “Finished assisting with the autopsy,” she announced.

Harris and Mulder were both very attentive.

“Alexi and I both agree without a doubt that the amoeba killed Rozinski. But he

didn’t inhale it. Rozinski not only had traces of fertilizer on his hands and arms, but

his wrists and ankles were irritated and his upper arm had a single injection point.

We believe he was murdered.”

“Damn. They put the amoeba in a vial and injected it into his arm?”

“That’s Dr. Morgan’s conclusion,” Scully said. “And I agree with her. He was tied

down, and killed.”

“Fingerprints, signs of a struggle?” Harris asked.

“No, no fingerprints, but he did have a bruise on his cheek that hadn’t formed yet,

and he took a blow to the head. It’s likely he wasn’t subdued quietly. What did you

two find?”

“Adam Rozinski’s bank account has been bulging in the last few days. He received a

deposit of $50,000 yesterday from an unknown source. Detective Harris is trying to

track it now,” Mulder reported. “And Scully, Rozinski was arrested for trespassing on

National Park grounds on the same day Willie Kirsten was brought into the hospital.

The ICU doctors who attended to him for the last few hours of his life all died within

the same few days, of the amoeba infection.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what’s going on here,” Detective Harris said. “They’ve found

a way to infect people, and Rozinski was so far in debt that he took a bribe to deliver

it.”

“I don’t think it stops with Rozinski,” Mulder said, standing up. “I agree with you

there, Detective.”

“We’ve also got information, Agent Scully, about three other victims who were either

arrested for trespassing in areas where other victims occupied the day they were

brought into the hospital, or inhabited those areas legally. And there’s a very

disturbing commonality.”

“What’s that?” Scully asked.

“They’re all involved in some way with the local club Rozinski recently joined.

They’re not all members—some are contributors, some are in charge of finances, and

some are employees. But they all are somehow affiliated with The Fraternity on 7th

street. In the city.”

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. “Alright, we’re going to need a warrant,”

Scully said. “And I’d like to question these people as soon as possible. We’ll need

your resources to do that, Detective Harris. There are bound to be a lot of them.”

“We’ll start first thing in the morning,” Harris said. “Can you two be here at 7?”

“We definitely can,” Mulder said with a nod. He walked over to Scully, and she said,

“We’re gonna grab something to eat. We haven’t eaten since the plane ride…if you

can call that food.”

Harris, immediately seeing Mulder’s plight, shifted in front of the pizza box a little

further, just in case Scully saw. “Fair enough. I’ll see you two tomorrow. We made

great progress.”

“We definitely did,” Mulder agreed, and led Scully out the door. A few minutes later,

when they were in their car, Scully spoke.

“You didn’t mention the Forest Rangers’ odd behavior.”

“Not yet,” Mulder said. “There’s something to this club lead, but I don’t think this

stops there. And we don’t have any evidence against the Rangers. After we search

the club I want to go back to that ranger station, Scully. There’s something going on

there.”

“We need to find a connection between the forest rangers and The Fraternity,” Scully

stated. “I have a feeling that will explain a lot.”

“What about the fertilizer? Do you think they’re planning a bomb?”

“If they are, they’re probably releasing the amoeba into the atmosphere while they

do it,” she said.

He started the car and drove toward their motel. “If this is what it looks like, I’m

hoping it’s contained to Miami.”

She nodded solemnly, and looked out the window. “Mulder, there’s a pizza place

right there—why don’t we stop in?”

“Eh, I don’t really feel much like pizza, Scully. Why not go to Wendy’s?”

“Do you see a Wendy’s anywhere?” Scully asked, her tone annoyed. “The pizza place

is right there. Come on, pull over.”

“Hey, look, a Chick-Fil-A,” Mulder said excitedly, and pulled into the parking lot.

“Let’s get some waffle fries and chicken on a bun, Scully.”

“Fine, anything edible,” Scully said, and they both headed into the fast food

restaurant. Neither one of them noticed the forest ranger’s truck that slowed in front

of the store, and then continued past.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

THE FRATERNITY

MIAMI, FL

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2007

1000

Mulder and Scully left the club with Detective Harris and a team of CSI’s,

discouraged. The only thing they had gotten out of their search was a handful of

rude stares, not-so-polite words, and numerous requests to leave.

Mulder had particularly reacted to one man’s words. “This club does nothing but

reach out to young men in need, Agents. What you’ve done here is inflict prejudice

on us. The whole neighborhood will think we’re some kind of illegal group.” Their

intentions had been just, going into the building, but Mulder still felt like dirt after

being on the receiving end of that accusation, and seeing the physical evidence of

who belonged to The Fraternity. Boys ranging from early teenage years to late 20’s,

mostly homeless or runaways, gathered together for prayer, for counseling, for

simple socialization. Not criminals.

Scully was about to say something when a boy, about fourteen years old, ran up to

them. He wasn’t followed. Mulder recognized him from inside the building, and it

was clear that he had left in a hurry and was worried that he might be in trouble for

it.

“FBI dudes! Wait up!” he yelled. His clothes were worn and tattered, his shirt

several sizes too small for him. “Sorry…I gotta tell you something. There’s this

group of dudes that meets every Tuesday night, at 9 pm. They meet in the

basement, and don’t let no one in. Now I don’t know what they’re doing down there,

and I don’t want no one knowin’ I told you nothing…if you get my drift.” He gave

them a meaningful look. “But I got a gut feeling they ain’t up to no good.”

Scully smiled gently at him. “Thank you very much for your information. You’ve

done the right thing.”

The boy simply said, “Gotta split,” and ran back inside the building before he was

missed. Mulder and Scully weren’t quite sure he wasn’t missed in the first place.

“Hope he doesn’t get in trouble with the other guys,” Mulder commented.

“Think he was a runaway?”

“Maybe homeless, maybe a runaway…maybe drugs.” Mulder shook his head. “You

never know.”

Scully nodded. Harris walked over to them after finishing his discussion with one of

the officers. “Kid tell you anything important?”

“We’re going to try to investigate a group that’s held here tonight at 9 pm. We’ll

need audio surveillance,” Mulder told him.

“That I can get you. I think we should try to figure out who’s in it before we start

the surveillance.”

“Agreed. Why don’t you do that, Detective…Scully and I are going to pursue our own

avenue of investigation.”

“Sure,” Harris said, slightly confused. “So we’ll meet up sometime this afternoon?”

“Sometime around 4,” Scully said. It was good to put a time limit on whatever

Mulder had in mind…or they might just end up spending the night in the woods with

brain-sucking amoebas.

“See you then,” Harris said.

They parted, and it was only when they were in the car that Mulder said, “We need

to go back to the ranger station.”

“Mulder, I agree that those rangers were acting odd, but all the evidence points to

this being the work of a group within The Fraternity.”

“It’s not just The Fraternity,” Mulder said. He started the car and pulled away.

“What makes you so sure?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he popped a sunflower seed in his mouth and focused his

eyes steadily on the road. Scully sighed. It had to be one of his ‘feelings’, but with

no evidence to back them up, she wasn’t sure how much they would get away with.

They had already waltzed into the ranger station and viewed the security tapes

without permission. What did Mulder have in mind now? Audio surveillance on their

houses? Going through their emails? Stalking them on MySpace?

It didn’t take long to get to the ranger station, but when they arrived, they found

that it was completely empty. There were no cars outside, or around back. The

lights were off. It was exceedingly odd.

“They’re supposed to have people manning these posts all the time,” Mulder said,

annoyed, as he strode up to the front door.

“So you’ve said,” his partner answered him. “I never suggested these rangers aren’t

acting odd, and I agree with you that they probably know something, but we just

don’t have any evidence.”

“How’d that water bottle come out?”

“It’s clean,” Scully said, disappointed.

“There goes our water selling theory.”

“What if only some of them are contaminated?” Scully asked, stopping in her tracks.

They hadn’t reached the door yet. “What if they’re only selling one or two

contaminated bottles to the campers? That would explain an increase in infections,

but it would also explain why everyone who walks into the Everglades doesn’t die.”

Mulder nodded, enthusiastic. “We’ll need probable cause to confiscate their water

bottle supply and have it tested.”

“I agree. And whatever we find in this station might just help us get it. Let’s go.”

It was odd that their roles were suddenly reversed, with Scully energetically in front,

eager to find whatever the rangers were hiding.

They walked inside, only slightly surprised that the door wasn’t locked, and found

that it was pitch black inside. Mulder turned on the lights with his sleeve. “Hello?”

the announced. “We’re with the FBI, and we have some questions. Is anyone here?”

No one answered.

Scully had already walked behind the counter, and into the back room, gun drawn.

Mulder followed her after surveying the open space and finding nothing. They saw

quickly that the back room consisted of a couch, a television, a coffee table, and a

door that led to the outside. Mulder opened it, his gun still extended in front of him.

The light from the back room spilled into the small closet they had just discovered,

and they spotted a door that truly led to the outdoors directly in front of them. The

closet was about the size of a broom closet, and was completely empty. “This is

odd,” Scully said.

“It is,” Mulder agreed, but didn’t find anything interesting. Until he looked down.

“Scully, look at this.”

Scully took out her flashlight and pointed it at the floor. A very small handle, made

of wood and hinged with metal, was barely visible between the wooden boards. The

agents stepped out of the small closet and Mulder picked up the handle, heaving the

entire floor of the little room up on hinges, and blocking the exit as he did so. He

exposed a stairwell that went down at least two stories, into a basement of sorts.

“Now I’m pretty sure this isn’t in the building plans,” Mulder said.

They went down the stairs without another word, Mulder first and Scully covering his

back.

Mulder shone his flashlight on the warehouse-sized underground space they viewed

when they reached the bottom of the stairs. There were crates lining the walls,

stacked one on top of the other, as far as they could see. The room was so large

that Mulder’s voice echoed when he said, “How did they build underground in the

Everglades? Isn’t that impossible?”

“It should be,” Scully said. “This entire room might not be dug out…it might have

been inserted. Or it might be a very dangerous room to occupy.”

“Come on, let’s see what’s in these crates.”

She normally would have protested, but she was so damn curious to see what

evidence had eluded them that she didn’t say a word as Mulder grabbed a crowbar

laying nearby and walked up to a crate behind some others. He pried it open and

tossed the crowbar aside, creating a loud, resonating ‘clang’ through the basement.

Scully almost pushed him out of the way to get a look at what was inside. There

were two large water dispensers, the kind one saw at sports games for the players

down by the benches.

“Do you have any way of getting a water sample, Scully?” Mulder asked.

“I left my equipment in the car. I’ll go get it.”

“Hurry up,” he said, and watched her run up the stairs at full speed.

He inspected the dispensers closer when she was gone, leaning in for a good look at

the dispensing mechanism and the sealing on the container. He saw an electronic

mechanism that he couldn’t quite understand, stuck to the container at the bottom.

He wondered if it could be a bomb, but he didn’t see any explosives.

Then something caught his eye. A small red wire running from the crate into the

wall. It was then that he discovered that all the crates were equipped with these

wires, running into the walls of the secret basement room. He was getting a very

bad feeling about this.

The feeling only escalated when Scully didn’t return for another two minutes.

Something was wrong. He held his gun in front of him as he ran up the stairs, but

only got to the top step before his partner came into his field of view. Only she

wasn’t alone. A park ranger was right behind her, shotgun visible and threateningly

held at his side. And her gun in his other hand.

“Thought I told you people no one was available here,” the park ranger growled as

Scully walked in Mulder’s direction.

“The front door was unlocked. We needed answers, and no one wanted to provide

any.”

“So this is what you people do when you need answers? You barge into someone’s

water supply chamber?”

“Water supply?” Scully asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, water supply. And before you jump to any stupid conclusions, hear me out.

This has nothing to do with that damn amoeba. This has to do with the town’s water

supply bein’ in serious danger. We found a way to get the water out of the swamps

and purify it. That down there is a water purification system.”

“So why are you hiding it in a basement?” Mulder challenged.

“Because it’s a nice big space near the Everglades, genius. Now I got a job to do,

and I don’t need two Feds gettin’ in my way. I’d greatly appreciate it if you two left.”

Mulder climbed the final stair as the man lowered his gun, and walked with Scully

toward the door. He took one last look behind him before Scully shoved him gently,

and they walked to their car. Scully picked up her gun from the dirt, noticing that

the park ranger stood outside the station, shotgun at his side, waiting for them to

leave.

“Something else is going on here, Scully, I know there is,” Mulder said once he was

behind the wheel.

Scully didn’t say anything.

He started the car, and pulled out of the station. After several moments of silence,

he looked at her. “You believed him.”

“It’s plausible that they could be circulating a water supply, for a storm or for a

limited population within the city. A water purification system for a community

whose water supply is diminishing every day. The amoeba might be transferred

through something else, and it probably is, considering the water bottle we tested

came out clean.”

“You think they’re totally innocent? That they don’t know what’s going on here?”

She was quiet.

“You have your doubts.”

“I’m doubting his lack of knowledge,” she said. “But I’m not doubting his innocence.

I don’t think they have anything to do with what’s happening.”

He sighed, and she gave him a pained expression. “You can’t be right all the time,

Mulder,” she said.

“But I’m driving,” he responded, and a smile played on his lips.

“You use that too often,” Scully accused.

They drove toward the Sheriff’s Department, ready to report to Detective Harris their

findings…or lack thereof.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

THE FRATERNITY

MIAMI, FL

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2007

2100

Mulder and Scully sat in a van with Detective Harris and an officer from the Dade

County Sheriff’s Department, listening intently to the men who piled into the small

basement room of the building across the street.

“Should we begin?” they heard. It was a shame they didn’t have video feed.

Although they had confirmed the suspects’ identities as they walked into the

building, it would still help to know who said what.

“The new shipment arrived today,” another man said in a thick European accent.

“Then we should begin dispersal as quickly as possible. I got a plan,” a third man

stated, and they heard the ruffling of a piece of paper. Mulder and Scully could

guess it was a map. “This will lead to maximum casualties.”

“We should start this tonight.”

“There aren’t many campers registered tonight. But I’m on shift,” the first man said.

“And so I can let you in the door. My friend is covering for me, but he’ll go do his

thing as soon as I am back.”

“In an hour and a half, we’ll be done here and you’ll be back at your post. That’s

when you let us in,” the third man told him.

“And then we take the containers and begin,” a fourth man chimed in. “We’ll bring

the truck.”

“Are you sure you can gain access to the water treatment plant? It pretty closely

guarded,” the second man told him.

“We can gain access. No problem.”

“Call us if you need to drop any bodies,” the first man said.

“We will,” a fifth man finally spoke.

“Let’s get outta here. It’s not safe to stay here for that long.”

“People are gonna wonder if we don’t stay here a little longer,” the second man

cautioned him.

“Then let’s chill.”

Mulder and Scully looked at each other as the men launched into normal

conversation, and it was Scully who first spoke. “We need a team at the water

treatment plant, and at the ranger station. We need a roster of all the employees of

the ranger station and we need a cross-check with those that attend this club. And

we need to move, people, we only have an hour and a half.”

The detective and officer jumped into action. They dispatched a team to the nearest

water treatment plant, and alerted others to be on guard. They rode to the ranger

station at top speed, and formulated a plan on the way.

They called in for backup, and had the entire place surrounded quickly and silently.

The park ranger inside didn’t know what was going on. Mulder and Scully didn’t

bother going into the station—instead, they hid outside, and waited to catch the men

in the act of loading the containers onto the back of a vehicle.

It seemed like they waited forever. Scully grew tired and leaned against a tree, and

Mulder rubbed her shoulders one by one, briefly, with his gun still in his hand. She

smiled her thanks.

Mulder’s own fatigue was written all over his face. It had been a long couple of days,

and he had obviously been awake thinking about this case. Something still wasn’t

quite right. There was something missing…it fell together too well. It was the classic

domestic terrorist plot, and yet it just…wasn’t right.

Finally, they saw movement. A truck pulled up and one Middle-Eastern man got out

of the driver’s side, and walked into the ranger station in a Park Ranger’s uniform. A

few minutes later, another man left.

Scully called in a trace on his vehicle and license plate, and they stayed put. Only

ten minutes later, another, larger truck pulled up and two men got out. They were

both very large, clearly capable of lifting more than Mulder’s weight. They walked

into the ranger station, and what seemed like an eternity later, walked out carrying a

large crate.

“Move in!” Mulder commanded, and everyone jumped out of their hiding places,

surrounding the men. They put the case down without being asked, and put their

hands up.

“Do not move,” a police officer instructed, even though the men were stationary.

“Get that to the lab,” Scully said. “Test the water samples for the amoeba,” she

commanded the officer who had accompanied them. As the officers handcuffed their

suspected terrorists, one of them looked up at Mulder and said, “I know you.”

Mulder glanced at him, the curiosity on his face so slight that he knew only Scully

picked it up. “What do you mean?” he asked in a harsh tone.

“You’re that profiler,” he said in perfect English. “And you handle freaky cases. I

know you.”

“How is that of any consequence to me?” Mulder asked.

“Oh…I think you’ll find out.”

And as he said it, he glanced at his comrade, handcuffed and on his knees beside

him. They nodded to each other, and bit down on capsules no one had seen they

had. “No!” Mulder screamed simultaneously with Scully, but as the agents rushed

forward to try to wipe the cyanide out of the men’s mouths, they had already been

fatally poisoned.

Foaming at the mouth and collapsed on the ground, their suspects were dead. And

more good news came through a police officer’s radio. “Report of an explosion at the

Euphoria Water Company. All available units, respond.”

Mulder and Scully gave each other pained expressions before breaking into a run for

the nearest available vehicle. “Arrest that park ranger inside,” Scully commanded.

“Seal off this station, keep it guarded and closed off to civilians. Evacuate the

campers and get me that water test,” she ordered.

“Get those bodies to the morgue and hold off on the autopsy until Agent Scully can

get a look at them,” Mulder added as he opened the passenger side door of one of

the Sheriff’s Department vehicles.

“Where are you two going?” Detective Harris demanded. “The officers can handle the

water treatment facility.”

“We need to be there,” was Mulder’s only explanation as he closed his door. Scully

started the car, and they were on their way with the help of the GPS in only a few

seconds.

“They’ve outsmarted us. Anticipated our arrival. They know what we’re up to, they

know what I’m investigating, and they’ve planned for all of it. Including the audio

surveillance,” Mulder said.

“There’s still one consistently unanswered question, Mulder.”

“I thought we had a lot of those.”

She ignored the comment. “Where are they getting the amoeba? How are they

controlling it? How can they guarantee that there will be a sample of that amoeba in

their water supply that they’re dispersing?”

“The answer’s in the Everglades—I’m sure of it.”

“It is an optimal place for the amoeba to spread, I’ll give you that,” Scully started.

“But?”

“But you still don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s what we’re going to the water treatment plant for, Scully.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

EUPHORIA WATER TREATMENT FACILITY

MIAMI, FL

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2007

2250

When Mulder and Scully arrived, they saw only chaos. Employees were huddled near

emergency vehicles, a fire truck was putting out a fire on the fourth floor, and the

entire upper floor of the building looked decimated. They could see inside in several

places, with the assistance of the floodlights the emergency workers had

constructed.

Mulder walked up to the first firefighter he found, and flashed his badge. “What

happened here?” he demanded.

“Explosion on the fourth floor. Damaged the third and fifth, didn’t destroy anything

but a couple of offices, and a supply route.”

“Supply route?”

“Two simultaneous explosions, one on the fourth floor, and one by the water supply

tank. We’ve got no way of knowing what the root of the explosion was until the

Bomb Squad gets here.”

Mulder’s mind zoomed through the possibilities, remembering exactly what those

men had said. The park ranger’s friend, who had covered for him, was going to ‘do

his thing’ when he left. “It was a suicide bomber,” Mulder said, more to Scully than

to the fireman in front of them. “That trace you ordered—it obviously wasn’t fast

enough. The man pulled into here, walked into this building, and blew up himself

and the water supply route simultaneously.”

“But Mulder, why would he do that? He didn’t release anything into the water supply

from inside…do you think?”

“We need those security tapes. And we need them now,” Mulder demanded.

“Well, I’m not the one to talk to. Building security has its hands full. You won’t get

much from them either. Best of luck to you, though.” The man walked away, and

Mulder stormed toward the building.

“Are you in charge?” he demanded. Scully followed closely behind, and matched

Mulder’s intense glance at the security guard coordinating an evacuation.

“Who are you?” The guard asked, clearly annoyed.

The agents quickly flashed their badges. “We need to see your security tapes for

water supply routes, and we need them now. You’ve got a toxic substance in your

water supply and we need to localize it.”

“How the hell can you know that?” The guard asked accusingly.

“Just get us the damn records, or find someone who can,” Scully insisted. “Every

second we wait here, we delay our chances to shut down the water supply.”

“Even if you wanted to shut down the water supply, you’d have to shut down at least

three routes,” a voice said from behind them. They turned to see a man in a suit.

“I’m Peter Grossman, water treatment engineer for this plant,” he introduced.

“You’re from the police department?”

“FBI,” Mulder said. “And you’ve got a toxic substance in one of your supply routes.

We need to shut it down before it gets to people’s houses. How much time do we

have?”

“About five minutes,” he said, and broke into a run, waving to them to follow him.

Out of options, they complied, and ran with the man through the building as the fire

alarm sounded its piercing whine. They ignored the alarm and the late-working

employees making their way out of the building, and went directly to the control

room.

“The best bet is to shut down the East P-16 gridline,” Grossman said, jogging up to

the central computer and sitting down in front of the console. “The explosion was on

the fourth floor, right?”

“Right,” Mulder said.

“And it was right here,” he pointed to a spot on an electronic schematic of the

building displayed on the security screen. “This part of the building is only accessible

through this one route. That’s because of the highly sensitive equipment in that

area. We sealed off the staircase and made it a separate suite. Whoever got in

must have known about that in advance—”

“Just shut down the damn water supply!” Scully ordered.

“Right…” the engineer said, and turned back to his station. “There are three options

that go into this area. All three routes cover about a third of our clients. Shutting

them down isn’t something I have the authority to do, but under the

circumstances…”

“Just do it,” Mulder said impatiently.

The engineer flipped the switch, and the glowing lights in those areas went dead.

“It’s done. Your water supply is now standing—that means it’s not flowing through

its usual pipeline. It’ll have to be re-distributed throughout the grid once it’s

cleaned. Those people, though, don’t have any water.”

“How long before they get their water back?” Scully asked.

“A day, two days?”

Mulder rolled his eyes, and then looked at the engineer sincerely. “Thank you, Mr.

Grossman, you’ve been very helpful.”

“Anything I can do to help you guys out. Let me just log out here…” He turned back

toward the computer, and pressed a few buttons. Mulder and Scully headed toward

the door. “Just wait a minute,” they heard him say, and when they turned around,

he had pulled a gun. They had no time to reach for theirs. “Disarm yourselves.

Now!”

They complied, warily gauging the situation. “So you’re the one who let him in,

Grossman? You’re the one who led him up to that fourth floor, and set the charge

outside?”

“To cut the power to the clean water supply and guarantee contamination,” the

engineer confirmed. “Kick the guns away from you and get away from each other.

That’s it. Good. Now stay there.”

Mulder didn’t know the man enough to judge whether he would really pull that

trigger, but he was awfully calm for an engineer with a gun. He decided to take a

wild guess. “So you believe what they’re doing? You believe this Fraternity group

has the right idea?”

Grossman snorted. “Right, you pegged it.”

Mulder had him right where he wanted him. “So this is for money?”

“What do you think? You think Moe, Larry, and Curly are well-funded over in that

club’s basement?”

Bull’s eye. “You’re doing this for some reason, Peter.”

“Why not for just no reason at all?”

Scully wasn’t sure what Mulder was doing, but she was being quiet and letting him

go at his speed…it was, at least, delaying the crazy man in the room. “Because

people generally don’t do things for ‘no reason at all’.”

“What do you want me to say? My mother never loved me? My father never hugged

me?”

“No, I’d expect a teenage pick-pocket to say that.”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?”

“The truth. Why you’re condemning a third of the city to death. Why you’re helping

a cause you don’t believe in, and stand to get no profit from.”

“Because of people like you, Mr. Mudler.”

“Mulder.”

“Whatever!” The man said, cocking his weapon and pointing it at Mulder’s head.

“People like you who think they’re so god-damned better than everyone else. People

who don’t think people like me are worth anything…people who take us for granted,

and people who go into the evil, brainwashing, child-murdering government that

accepts those people like you and rejects people like me for ‘psychological reasons’.”

Mulder didn’t respond for a moment, sensing that the man was about to continue.

Grossman took a step forward. “Do you know how hard I studied for that entrance

exam? Do you know how badly I wanted to serve my country? Before I found out

what an evil machine it is, disregarding the people who break their backs to hold it

up, while they chase pointless tasks, waste our money, and destroy our foreign

policy!”

Mulder shook his head. “So you’re going to punish a third of Miami for the

government’s mistakes.”

“Yes! Only then can we get you people to listen to us! They don’t give minorities a

chance! They don’t give the poor kids a chance to get up in this world and pull

themselves out of the muck. All they give them is a rejection! And they only pay

attention when something blows up!” He took another step forward, so that the gun

was nearly in Mulder’s face. Then he shifted the gun so that it was pointed directly

at Scully. His face was red, he was sweating bullets, and his eyes darted around,

paranoid. “Do you think for one minute you were hired because you passed a test?

It’s because you were needed to meet a damn diversity quota! They don’t hire

women or minorities because they want to!” He began to laugh. “It’s all some big

damn dinner party. Everyone impressing everyone else. And—”

He didn’t get the opportunity to continue because Mulder disarmed him in one fluid

motion, kicking the gun out of his hand and wrapping his arm behind his back. He

cuffed him last, and ignored the man’s loud protests. “You know what the sad thing

is, Scully?”

Scully raised an eyebrow, waiting for the corny punch-line.

“He never even got to the appetizer.” Mulder shoved Peter toward the door without

another word, but didn’t miss Scully rolling her eyes. He smiled slightly at her as

they walked side-by-side to their car. They shoved the incessantly loquacious

engineer in the back, and locked the doors before they started the car and drove off.

They headed directly for the Miami-Dade PD office.

“Now we get the joy of interrogations,” Scully said, resting her head in her palm, and

her elbow on the windowsill of the passenger’s seat.

“One after the other,” Mulder responded with mock enthusiasm.

The immediate danger seemed to have passed. But there was still a mystery here,

and they both knew it. How did these insane, delusional people get a hold of a

brain-eating amoeba? Hopefully, through the daunting interrogations, they would

find some answers.

And, Scully hoped, not get stuck in the woods overnight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

MIAMI-DADE PD CRIME LAB

MIAMI, FL

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2007

0002

The park ranger was little more than a boy. He was probably nineteen, twenty years

old, of Arab descent, but clearly American, and scared out of his mind in that

interrogation room. He was a tall man, about Mulder’s height, but hadn’t filled out

yet. His park ranger’s uniform hung loosely on him as he sat in the hot seat.

Mulder knew he was their weakest link, the one who would tell them where the

amoebas were coming from. Scully stood by the door, leaning against the wall,

while her partner circled the suspect in the center.

“Treason,” Mulder said. “You’ll be in prison for the rest of your life. Terrorism is just

about the worst thing you can do, politically, right now, Mr. Ibrahim. You’ll get no

sympathy in the American justice system. And you don’t deserve that, do you?”

The park ranger looked up at Mulder, confused.

“You’re what, nineteen years old?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Just got your first job. Didn’t want to go to college. Got roped into doing the wrong

thing with the wrong people. Thought you could be a big shot, and was doing fine

until this entire thing blew up in your face. Help yourself out. Tell me where you got

the amoeba.”

“I…to do so would be betraying The Fraternity.”

“A third of the city could have died,” Mulder said harshly, moving in on his suspect.

“And it would’ve been your fault! You’d receive the death penalty, I guarantee you.

You’d be tried and convicted as a terrorist and a traitor to your country. No one died

because my partner and I got there on time. Don’t think for a minute that your

friends won’t try something again, and this time the FBI may not be there to stop

them. A third of the city. Innocent people, Mr. Ibrahim. Is that what you want?”

“You have no clue what I want.”

“You want a chance. And I can tell you right now, the route you’re going will

obliterate that chance.”

The boy was silent.

“Come on, Jason, you’ve grown up here, you’ve gone to school with the same people

you’re targeting here. Do you really think your high school classmates deserve to

die?”

“Sometimes people have to die for—”

“What about this guy?” Mulder pulled a picture of a boy around Jason’s age out of his

pocket, and put it on the table. “Do you know who this is?”

Jason shook his head.

“This is Tom Haggerty, a former classmate of yours, and one of my boss’s friends.

He died from the amoeba infection, a little more than a week ago. He went to school

with you, Jason. You never saw him before?”

“Maybe…maybe in the hallways.”

“He’s dead because of that amoeba. If you tell me where you got it, we can stop

others from dying. And we’ll mention that you helped us on our report. That’ll help

you when you go to trial, Jason.”

Jason remained silent.

“You remember your friend, Ryan Colgate?” Mulder pulled another picture out of a

file on the desk, and set it in front of Jason. “The man that covered for you during

your shift, while you were in the basement of The Fraternity, and then drove off to

the water treatment plant to commit suicide? He’s dead, Jason. He blew himself up.

But you knew that. Did you also know that it was he and an engineer that worked for

the plant that conspired to infect a third of the water in the city? They would have

killed that many people. Did you think Ryan was capable of that?”

Jason still didn’t say anything.

“I can stop this, Jason. You just need to give me something. Tell me where you

were getting the amoeba.”

The boy was silent for a few more minutes, and Mulder was about to get up and walk

out when he said, “There’s this weird thing…in the Everglades. It’s like quicksand,

but it isn’t…and you put a cooler with some animal brains in it…and then you walk

away, and it crawls in. And then you divide it up between the water coolers, and no

one knows anything. I did it. I took the amoeba from the Everglades and put it in

the water supply. We tested it on a few campers at first, and then the big move was

putting it in the water treatment facility’s supply.” He looked up from his hands, and

into Mulder’s eyes. “Are they going to execute me, Mr. Mulder?”

He was clearly scared, and Scully could see he was very near tears. Mulder decided

to still play the bad cop as he stood up and said, “I’ll see what I can do to prevent

that from happening, Mr. Ibrahim. And we’ll be back.”

Scully was the first to speak as soon as the door shut behind them. “There’s no way

he’s seen the amoeba, Mulder. It’s microscopic!”

“What if it’s not? What if somehow it’s mutated to become large enough for these

people to use for their testing of their biological warfare?”

She shook her head. “It isn’t possible.”

“I think it’s worth checking out.”

“And how would we find out exactly where it is?”

“Go back and ask him,” Mulder said simply. “And when we find it, we’ll call a Hazmat

team and get it out of the Everglades.”

“We’re not going in with anything but a Hazmat suit,” Scully warned him. “And I’m

not spending the night in the Everglades—we won’t see anything, anyway. We’ll go

in the morning.”

Mulder seemed displeased, but he relented. “We need to get this organized,

anyway,” he said.

“I’m going to get down to the autopsy bay to check on those bodies you sent there

earlier this evening.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll get the Hazmat team organized and get Jason to give

us directions. See if I can convince the Sheriff to release him to come with us.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“I can dream.”

She rolled her eyes, and departed. Mulder went to go find the Sheriff. In a few

hours, it would be daylight and they would head into the Everglades.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

LONG PINE KEY CAMPGROUND

EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, FL

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2007

0630

A Hazmat team led Scully, Mulder, Jason, and half a dozen guards into the

Everglades. They were escorted by the park rangers who warned them of any

dangers they might face as they hiked. And everyone had a Hazmat suit on. They

walked for fifteen minutes before Jason stopped before a pit, and stared at it with a

stunned look on his face. “It’s gone,” he said.

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. “What do you mean, gone?” Scully asked.

“I mean it isn’t here.”

“Hey! What’s that?” they heard, and saw a member of the Hazmat team take off in

a run. His teammates followed him, and naturally the rest of the party brought up

the rear. Mulder accelerated his running as much as he could with the bulky suit,

trying to get to the front and see whatever the Hazmat man had seen.

Then he spotted it as well, and they all came to a dead stop. “Scully, come here!”

Mulder demanded. His voice had that excited quality to it that told his partner that

he had found something incredible. And when she saw it, she gasped as well.

As large as a building, and right before their eyes, was a greenish-brown blob. It

resembled exactly what they had all identified in elementary school as an amoeba

from their science books, complete with the food and digestive vacuoles, the visible

nucleus, and contractive vacuole, but it was huge.

And now it was stopped in its tracks, as if it were about to go after one of them.

They all had their guns pointed at it the second they realized what it was. But it

didn’t make a move, and it didn’t attempt to eat them. Jason whispered to Scully,

“It never left its hole…”

“It probably knows it’s being threatened,” Scully said quietly, more to Mulder than to

Jason. “The fact that it ran from us suggests it has a survival instinct.”

Mulder didn’t get the chance to reply. The creature before them began dividing.

They saw the vacuoles divide first, and the nucleus became two nuclei, and then the

entire creature divided into two. It continued the process. “My God, this is

macroscopic mitosis,” Scully said, amazed.

Mulder shook his head. “I think we’d better get out of here.”

“I’m with him,” a nearby officer said, and the Hazmat team seemed to agree. They

backed away slowly, just as the two became four, and the four became eight.

As they broke into a run, Mulder heard the distinct sound of a chopper running

overhead. He looked up, and then at the Hazmat team. “Did you guys call for a

chopper?”

The Hazmat leader shook his head. “No, it’s not ours. It’s not yours?”

“No,” Scully said. They had stopped now, near a campground clearing. The mucky

ground beneath their feet made it hard to run, and they had lost sight of the

amoeba. Then they all saw the helicopter lower over the forest, and begin to pour

something all over the Everglades.

“What’s it doing?” Detective Harris demanded. “What’s going on?”

“They’re exterminating it,” Scully said quietly into her microphone. Mulder turned to

her. “They’re eliminating it from the Everglades.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Harris asked, shoving Jason out of his way to confront her.

“Some old friends,” Mulder answered for her, his voice seeping with bitterness. He

pushed the handcuffed nineteen-year-old in front of him, and then led the way

toward the exit of the Everglades. When they were back up on the path he looked

up and saw the helicopter again. “God DAMN it!” he screamed. “They’re destroying

it! All of it!”

“They’ve just exterminated one of the most unique organisms on the planet,

Mulder,” Scully said quietly.

The stress in her voice was evident, and Mulder’s expression betrayed his disgust

and rage. “They’ll stop at nothing. Bastards.” He shoved Jason forward again, and

angrily walked after him.

“No, you’re wrong,” Jason said, and turned around. Mulder was about to spin him

back, and force him to walk, but he interjected. “Whoever ‘they’ are, they just did

everyone a favor. Eliminating the source of all this is the best possible outcome.”

Mulder and Scully didn’t respond to that. They just exited the Everglades.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

MIAMI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

MIAMI, FL

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2007

1800

Mulder and Scully sat and awaited their flight in isolated chairs in the corner of their

terminal’s waiting area. It was Scully who spoke first. “I can’t believe they destroyed

it.”

“You confirmed the chemical yourself, Scully. They poured the closest thing we have

to a cure on the entire Everglades area.”

“But something like that…I’d hate to think it was a unique organism.”

“I’d rather not think there might be more of those things out there.”

“Well, of course I don’t want anyone else to die, but the opportunity to study that

thing, Mulder…and they just took it away from us. Not just from us—from the world.

The world will never be able to study that macroscopic amoeba.”

“Don’t be so sure. These X-files tend to propagate. And I’ve got a feeling this

amoeba was more intelligent than people gave it credit for.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A feeling,” he stated.

She sighed. “I think the only thing we can be sure of is that nothing is certain in this

case.”

“One thing is certain, Scully. Someone had plans to use that amoeba for biological

warfare, whether in the military or for organized crime.”

“Just what we needed. A brain-sucking amoeba used for biological warfare, and

domestic terrorism,” Scully said wryly.

“At least The Fraternity doesn’t have to worry about its members declaring war with

a macroscopic unicellular organism anymore,” Mulder said with a slight smile.

They didn’t speak for a moment, but then Scully asked, “There’s another hour until

our flight takes off, Mulder. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“I’m all for that.” They stood up, picked up their bags, and headed for the Pizza Hut

across the terminal. Neither one noticed the tall, mysterious man speaking into his

headset.

“They’re about to depart, in about an hour. We can begin.”

“Excellent,” a deep voice said on the other line. “Meet me at the lab in one hour. We

have a Hazmat suit waiting for you.”

The man tapped his Bluetooth off, and walked out of the terminal.

End

1

Paratio Parasitus by Starfleetofficer1

Title: Impact

Author: Vickie Moseley and Martin Ross

Summary: When Mulder is offered a mens to keep Scully safe, will he follow the devil to hell and back?

Rating: Everyone

Category: X, MRS, SA, MA

Written for Virtual Season 15, two weeks exclusive.

Author’s notes: Thanks to Truthwebothknow for artowrk and beta!

Prologue

Gas-N-Go

Mt. Vernon, WA

Nov. 13, 2007

10:45 pm Pacific Time

As Eric LaPortierre would tell his buds later, his first thought was they’d found out about the weed. Scott Massey was cool when it came to scoring some righteous chronic or a couple floor seats when Fallout Boy was in Seattle at the Paramount or over at the Tacoma Dome, but he bore the dreaded Mark of the Puss, and was known to fold under pressure.

“He’s lyin’, Dude, I mean Lady!” Eric choked as the short one flopped her ID on the counter between the ginseng supplements and the Teriyaki Chicken Jerky. He’d played it cool when the three suits cruised through the sliding door, the dudes peeling out respectively toward the porn mags and the now-graying SuperFranks and the chick closing in on Eric. He’d made them as cops the moment they came in, though they looked kinda like those guys, Will Smith and the ancient dude from that alien movie. Or maybe Secret Service — maybe Bush was in town, wanted a photo op with some working dude to get his Nielsen ratings or whatever up. That’s all he needed — Scott bopping in with a baggieful of bambalacha while Dubya’s rapping about the Middle East (Eric hoped not — he was totally hopeless when it came to geology).

Now, as he read (or rather, mouthed) the three letters on the Short Fed’s ID, Eric fought the instinct to hurl all over the FBI dwarf. Or midget – dwarves were the ones with the big heads, right? That brainstem Scott. They found the ganja in the wheel well of Scott’s van, and he’d narced him out. Fucking brainstem.

“I mean, how can I help you?” Eric managed, grinning as if his bladder were about to release. “We got Morleys two for one.”

“The videos,” the little chick demanded.

“Oh, man, you shoulda come in earlier, Dude, I mean, Lady. Shit goes real quick on Friday nights.” Eric glanced behind him at the meager DVD rack. “We got the Passion of the Christ left — it’s kinda hard to understand, but the ending really rocks . . .”

“The. Security. Videos.” The fed leaned in, looking like that evil Species babe. Actually, Eric realized, she was kind of a MILF — he’d had a jones for redheads ever since Tracy Carhartt’d gone submarine hunting with him behind the minimart the previous Saturday. “I need everything you’ve got for the last six hours. Everything.”

“It’s all, like, digital now,” Eric stated proudly, his confidence returning. “The tape thing blew up when Dwight on the hoot owl shift spilled a Zima all over it. Mr. Bhattan bought this totally extreme digital system with the money he saved by firing Dwight’s ass. . .”

“The videos,” Agent MILF growled. She looked like she might pull out a Magnum and bust a cap in him. Eric thought it was kind of hot.

“Hey, man, lady, whatever.” Eric practically knocked over the Doritos rack stumbling to the tiny corridor that housed the johns and Mr. Bhattan’s broom closet/office. He felt the woman’s heat signature trail him into the cramped command center. The clerk wiggled the mouse, and the Dancing SuperBurrito vanished. “My bro, he’s with the Geek Squad at the Best Buy near the mall. He set all this shit up. It is really wicked cool.” Eric’s finger paused over the left mouse button, and he looked up at the FBI babe. “Oh, shit. Mr. Bhattan’d probably want me to get some kinda warrant, like on Law and Order? He’d probably be pretty pissed if I didn’t at least ask, you know?”

To his astonishment, she smiled. “Eric?”

Eric’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know my name? Am I like in some kinda federal database or something?”

The agent leaned over and tapped his chest. The boy swallowed, the hair under his ponytail rising. Then he glanced down at his ID badge. “Oh. Duh. Yeah.”

“Eric?” the redhead repeated gently. “If you’d like, we can call your employer. It’s, what, only 10:48 p.m. I’m sure he won’t mind coming down. Or if it’s more convenient, we could drive over to Mr. Bhattan’s house and ask him personally. My colleagues could follow us.”

“Us?” Eric performed an instant inventory of his ’98 Tracer – Hawthorne Heights CDs, backup SuperStop vest, Cool Ranch Doritos, secret stash of fat boys in the driver’s door pocket… “Hey, you know what? I don’t guess Mr. Bhattan would care if I cooperated with you guys. I mean, he’s a real patriotic dude, you know? What do you wanna see?”

The agent nodded curtly. “Two men. Both in their thirties. They might have been arguing.”

Eric squinted. His head bobbed excitedly. “Yeah, yeah. It was about 9:30. They were bitchin’ at each other the whole time. The one guy was all, like, ‘Let’s go, hurry up, c’mon.’ The other one, the one with the big nose, he was like taking forever at the CornNuts.”

“CornNuts,” the agent murmured triumphantly.

“Yeah. The one dude kept sayin, ‘Just pick one.’ My gaydar went off like immediately. I think the one with the CornNuts was like the chick, you know?”

The redhead blinked. “Can you punch up the video around that time? The store and the parking lot?”

“No prob.” Eric’s eyes widened. “These dudes like serial killers?”

“Eric.”

“The video. Roger.”

Five minutes later, they watched two men enter the minimart in grainy black-and- white. The man the agent knew as Alex Krycek beelined to the soda case on the back wall. The other man, in clear view of the security camera, walked back to the restrooms, returning a few minutes later. He then strolled to the snack aisle, where, indeed, he honed in on the SuperStop’s selection of giant toasted corn kernels.

Krycek emerged with a pair of colas, mouthed something obviously peevish at his CornNut-obsessed friend, who showed him the hand. Krycek began to pace until his companion made a selection. The snackaholic dumped three bags on the counter before Eric – Regular, BBQ, and Chile-Lime, the agent assumed – and dug out his wallet. The transaction was completed, the man lingered for a second or two of smalltalk with Eric, Krycek turned heel and stalked out, and the customer soon followed, CornNuts in hand. Eric waved, and retrieved a magazine from under the counter.

“You know, it ain’t the way I swing, but they did make kind of a nice couple,” Eric suggested in real time.

“‘Big Uns,'” Scully read, squinting at the screen. Eric punched a key, and the desktop reappeared. “OK, punch up the parking lot. Same timeframe.”

Eric’s head bobbed, and he set to work, eager to please the new star of his adolescent fantasies for the next few weeks.

“Agent?”

The redhead turned. The larger of her two escorts was in the doorway, a paper towel fluttering in his hand.

“I, uh, had to, you know…,” the male agent explained with a slight stammer. “Well, anyway, this was sitting on the sink in the john.”

She grabbed the towel from his fingers and flipped it over. “‘Don’t follow us — I’ll explain everything later. Love, M.'”

“M,” the male agent pondered. “Hey, that’d be Agent Mul—”

Agent MILF’s head whipped up. Her colleague backed up a step. “That’s a reasonable assumption.”

“So, umm, what do you think? Ransom note?”

“Harbinger of death,” Special Agent Dana Scully growled. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh, wow,” Eric whispered.

 

Georgetown University Track

November 13, 2007

Earlier that morning

It was going to be a glorious day in the District. The sky in the east was giving off a deep purple glow and the streetlights were just beginning to blink out when Mulder made his way to the track. In this quiet hour, before the campus managed to roll out of bed, he had full use of the facility and still only had a couple of blocks to go back to grab a shower and maybe catch a glimpse of his partner as she went about getting ready for the day.

She’d strangle him in his sleep if she knew how often he timed his runs so that he was just getting in the duplex as she was turning off the water and stepping out of the shower dripping wet. She wouldn’t mind that he was still coming up with fantasies that involved both of them naked, but she did object to the blast of cold air when he abruptly entered the steam-filled bathroom pretending complete innocence in his motives.

Going on four years of co-habitation and they still had it going on.

He smiled as he did a few stretches. He had a definite bounce to his step that had become more pronounced in the past few weeks. He would never admit that it had anything to do with his continued weekly sessions with that black ops psychiatrist Manville. Mulder put down his recent good humor to the demise of one of their more nefarious enemies, Charles Scully.

Now that Charlie was out of the picture, Mulder felt they were getting somewhere against the conspiracy to keep the American public in the dark about alien involvement in world affairs. Scully even seemed to be taking her brother’s death better than he had feared. One night just a week ago she had confided that Charlie had been dead for many years as far as she was concerned. Her biggest worry was her mother — now having lost three of her children. He had assured his partner that they would make certain Maggie had the time to grieve, but also that she would never be alone.

Mulder walked over to the track and popped a few vertebra in his neck. He started out at a slow and steady pace, gradually gaining speed. Before long, he was well into a sprint, doing a four and a half minute mile with ease. He dropped back to a jog and continued for another mile before ratcheting up to a sprint again.

He had been doing this routine for so long he no longer even bothered to count the laps around the track. It was all automatic, allowing his mind to concentrate on whatever it chose.

The holidays were coming up and he knew that would be a hard time for Maggie. The trip to the summerhouse had given him an idea. He was thinking that maybe they could go on a cruise, the whole Scully clan — what was left of it. Disney cruise lines were advertising every other commercial during football games. He had the money, it was a shame not to use it on something every one needed.

He made a mental note to call a travel agent and find out what dates were available.

He should also find out when Matty was out of school for winter break. Then he had to go dress shopping. Surely he could find a little red number like the dress Scully wore in his last ‘adventure’ on a cruise ship, the ill-fated voyage on the luxury liner Queen Anne. Maybe he could have the dress made. Maybe this time he could end the night peeling that dress off her silky pale shoulders rather than nursing a bruised jaw and taking a dip in the ocean. Maybe this time he could end up spending at least some of the mornings in bed with Scully rather than in ICU.

But there were the kids to consider, too. A cruise ship was fun for adults, but this was a family vacation. Matty and Claire had never been to Disney World, at least to his knowledge. Matty would love Space Mountain and he could see Claire’s face light up when she got to meet her favorite princess, Ariel. Oh yes, the perfect vacation for all of them. He was making his turn, his mind on the Magic Kingdom and the trip he and Scully had made to Florida five years ago when he noticed that he was no longer alone. Another runner had joined him on the track.

Mulder casually noted that the guy — for he had a lean, male body — wore a hooded sweatshirt that hid his face from view. There was a bit of a nip to the dawn breeze, but Mulder didn’t mind the cool air when he was running in the morning. Still, he decided to keep his distance, just in case this was an early morning mugging attempt. His gun was in the lockbox in the nightstand by his side of their bed, but if he had to, he could fight barehanded.

‘Bringing knuckles to a gunfight?’ his little Jiminy Cricket voice asked derisively. He was constantly amazed that when his little voice spoke to him, it always sounded like Scully. No, he wasn’t about to get involved in anything dangerous while running unarmed. Besides, he reminded himself, there were security cameras at both ends of the track. They were being watched. If it looked like trouble, the campus cops would be there in a flash. He relaxed a bit and broke out into another sprint, passing the stranger on one of the turns without a second glance. They ran for about another half hour, Mulder passing the stranger every time he would kick up to a sprint, then keeping half a track distance when he was jogging.

The alarm on Mulder’s watch chimed, telling him it was time to head home for his shower and Scully’s impromptu peep show. He jogged over to the bleachers where his water bottle and sweatshirt were waiting.

Gulping down three-fourths of the 32 ounce bottle and dumping the remaining liquid over his head, Mulder wiped his face on the corner of his shirt and pulled the sweatshirt on. The other runner was jogging over to the bleachers. As he approached, Mulder froze as he recognized the face. It was Alex Krycek.

 

Krycek nodded to Mulder as if they were casual acquaintances. He pulled his own bottle of water from a gym bag a few yards down from where Mulder was standing and downed the contents in a matter of seconds. “Great day for a run,” he said calmly, wiping the sweat from his face. “What were you doing there — five minute miles?”

“Four and a half,” Mulder ground out. “What are you doing, Krycek? Are you following me? What do you want?”

Alex smiled brightly. “Settle down, Mulder. You aren’t a kid anymore. Too much stress and you’ll blow a gasket. Oh, wait, you’re seeing a shrink now, aren’t you?”

Mulder glared at the former agent for all of a minute, then wordless turned to leave. Krycek caught up with him easily.

“Sorry, hit a nerve, did I? Hey, everybody’s on Prozac these days, Mulder. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Then why don’t you go home and overdose on it,” Mulder suggested with a bitter smile.

“Ah, that’s no way to talk to an old friend.”

“You aren’t an old friend, Krycek. If you think you are, you really are delusional. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going home.”

“To the little wifey?” Krycek sneered. Mulder halted and turned to face him. “Sorry. I know you’re a bit touchy about that, too. But then why buy the cow when you get the milk — ”

Mulder’s fist shot out before Krycek could finish his sentence. The punched knocked the Russian back a few feet, but he stayed standing. “Nice right hook, Mulder,” he said, dabbing his bloody lip.

“What the hell do you want, Krycek. Or are you finally so far down the food chain that all you’re given to do is harass me?”

Krycek laughed out loud. “Mulder, lose the ‘ball and chain’ for a day and meet me at the lock house on the C&O canal.”

Mulder shook his head in bemusement. “You are seriously out of your mind, Krycek. I wouldn’t meet you anywhere unless it was to escort you through the gates of Hell.”

“Nah, that’s more your partner’s style. At least that’s what’s out on the grapevine. Stood by and watched her brother stung to death by a few hundred bees. Not that she didn’t do us a favor, mind you, but man — that was cold! I guess that nickname Ice Queen was for more than just the bedroom — ”

Mulder’s fist came up again, but this time Krycek was able to block him. “Pax, pax. Don’t defame the redhead. I get it. But Mulder, aren’t you even curious what I want to tell you?”

“If I said no, will you go away?”

“Here. Read this and then give me your answer.” Krycek dug through the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a newspaper clipping.

“Meteor shower in Peru results in illness and death,” Mulder read aloud. He handed the clipping back to Krycek. “Old news. I saw this weeks ago. When the locals went looking they found the rock and a bunch of them got sick. Later, the public health officials were giving some party line that the illnesses weren’t related to the meteorites. It all died down till recently. Some of your comrades are going down there to retrieve the rocks.”

“A waste of time. The black ops boys retrieval unit has been to Peru and gone by now. There’s nothing left to find in the Andes. But Mulder. That wasn’t the only meteor shower. There’s been another one. Recently.”

That was enough to make Mulder stand up straighter. “Latin America?”

Krycek smiled. “Meet me at 10 — Lock house, C&O canal. And remember, this party is strictly stag. Don’t bring the missus.”

Mulder turned, then started back. It was worth being late to the office if he could start the day by kicking Krycek’s ass. But the Russian was already half way across the field, and the Georgetown U. cross-country team was taking their morning conditioning run. The double agent was lost in the crowd.

With a little less enthusiasm than when he’d arrived at the track, but his mind going a mile a minute, Mulder headed back home.

Act 1 scene 2

Mulder and Scully’s Townhouse

7:35 am

She was coming down the stairs as he entered the duplex. “You’re going to be late,” she told him, eyebrow raised at his tardiness.

“I’ll be quick,” he vowed and bounded up the steps two at a time. He stripped off his wet running clothes, dropped them in the hamper and stepped into the shower. The water was still running warm and he scrubbed himself down before stepping out again.

While shaving he considered telling Scully about the run in with Krycek. He thought about it all the time he was pulling on his clothes in the bedroom and by the time he was finishing the Windsor knot at his collar and brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket shoulder he’d decided honesty was the best policy.

He found her in the kitchen, buttering a freshly toasted bagel. She nodded to his cup of coffee and handed him the bagel. “Eat up fast.”

“Scully, I wanted to talk — ”

“Oh, I almost forget to tell you — I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon at 12:30.”

He had taken a big bite of the bagel, but her words stopped him cold. He had to choke down the mouthful of food.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. What were you going to say?” she asked when she noticed he had visibly paled at her announcement.

“Doctor?” he inquired finding no moisture in his suddenly tight throat. “What doctor?”

“Zuckerman, my oncologist. It’s time for my yearly check up. It won’t take long.” All the wind went out of his sails and he slumped against the counter. Her yearly check up. A once a year reminder that they were living on borrowed time. There was no cure for cancer — even the medical community euphemistically called it ‘remission’. He had to swallow twice to get the words out of his mouth. “Do you, uh, do you want me to go with you?”

“Mulder, that’s silly,” she said casually, as she put away the butter and the remaining bagels. “Why should the two of us miss work? It’s just a check up. Don’t look so worried.” She turned back to face him. “What were you saying before? You want to talk?”

There was no way he was going to mention Krycek at any time during the conversation — it would be like tempting fate. “Yeah,” he flubbed, scrambling for some reasonable subject matter. ” — um, about vacations. We can talk about it later.”

“Oh, all right. Well, I’m going to get my briefcase; I left it in the office upstairs. Meet you out at the car.” She reached up and kissed the side of his mouth, wiping away her lipstick with her thumb. “Ummn, buttery,” she grinned at him. “Hurry and eat so we can miss the traffic jam.”

He stood there for a full minute, eyes closed, just trying to remember to breathe. Finally, looking at the toasted bread in his hand with disgust, he dropped it in the garbage and headed out the back door.

FBI Headquarters

9:05 am

He was sifting through his morning emails when the call came through. Scully grabbed the phone before he had a chance, but he was pretty sure by her clipped reply what the caller had wanted.

“Skinner?”

“In five,” she replied.

“Five minutes to get up there? Either this is one important case or I screwed up the expense report again,” he muttered, pulling on his suit jacket.

“If it’s the latter, you’re also doing the dishes for the next week,” she informed him with a glare.

“No mas, no mas,” he pleaded with hands raised in surrender and followed her out the door to the elevator.

The elevator was crowded and it stopped at every floor, so they were pushing the time limit when they entered the Assistant Director’s outer office. Kim, his assistant, looked up and smiled at them.

“Relax, Agent Mulder. The expense report went through budget,” she said with a grin. Mulder ducked his head in acknowledgement and Scully rolled her eyes at him. “But you have to wait a minute. He just took a call from the Director.”

“Thanks,” Mulder said for both of them and they settled in on the couch. Mulder was jiggling his leg, crossing it and uncrossing it in nervous anticipation.

Finally, Scully’s hand landed not too softly on his kneecap and he jerked his head up to look at her.

“Mulder, please. You’re shaking the couch,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” he replied.

“What is wrong with you? Kim just as much as told us this isn’t a chewing out. You act like you’re preparing for bad news.”

How could he tell her that was exactly what he was doing? Except he wasn’t expecting the bad news to come from their boss. For some reason, he was worried sick about her appointment and no amount of mental reassurance could convince him it was needless. “Sorry, nervous energy,” he covered.

“Did something happen at the track today?” she asked, her head tilted so that the light from the hallway cast glimmers off her hair. He was about to speak, to tell her everything when the door to Skinner’s inner office opened and the man motioned them in.

They took their normal seats in front of Skinner’s desk. Before they’d even had a chance to address him, the Assistant Director slid a file folder across the polished surface. “This one has your names all over it,” he said with a scowl.

Mulder picked up the folder and flipped it open. After just a few moments of reading, he looked up in disbelief. “Exsanguinated hogs?” he asked disdainfully.

“And one farmer,” Skinner pointed out, adjusting the knot of his tie as if it were suddenly too tight.

“Sir — this . . . this defies description,” Mulder exclaimed, shaking his head.

“Mulder, if they can exsanguinate cows — ” Scully said with a shrug.

“Is April coming a bit early this year, Sir?” Mulder shot over to Skinner with a glare.

“Agent, I understand your . . . skepticism. But the fact remains that the local sheriff has requested our assistance — ”

” . . . and the field office in Springfield just couldn’t wait to pawn this off on DC,” Mulder sneered.

“Mulder, you have made it quite clear that exsanguination of farm animals with concurrent deaths of a human or humans falls under the jurisdiction of the X Files Division. Now, if you want to start cherry picking — ”

“Cherry picking!” Mulder retorted. “Fine, we’ll take it,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Good,” Skinner said and glanced at his watch. “Your flight leaves Dulles at 12:30.”

Mulder shot a quick look at Scully, who shot him a look back. “Sir, is it essential that both of us travel to Illinois — together?” Mulder asked with more respect than he’d exhibited during the entire meeting.

“Is there a problem?” Skinner asked.

“Sir, I have an appointment this afternoon,” Scully explained. “My annual check up.”

Skinner sucked in a breath. “Oh, uh, of course you don’t want to miss that, Agent Scully. I see no reason for both of you to go out to Normal today. Agent Mulder, you can go out and assess the situation. If further investigation is warranted,” he said over Mulder’s snort, “you can call Agent Scully to join you.”

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your leniency,” Scully said quietly.

“Not a problem,” Skinner said, becoming deeply engrossed in a paper he’d pulled out of his inbox. “You’re both dismissed.”

Scully had to run to catch up with Mulder’s longer legs. “Hey,” she said, when he finally stopped at the elevator doors.

“Hey,” he replied, pulling on his bottom lip.

“Mulder, are you OK?” she asked tenderly, her hand on his arm.

He shot a look around them, they weren’t alone. He smiled down at her and patted her hand, then gently removed it from his arm. “I’m fine, Scully,” he said with a wan smile. He checked his watch before she could speak. “Look, I’m going to run by the house, pick up my bag and maybe be on time for a flight for once. I’ll take a cab to the airport — you keep the car for your appointment.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said hesitantly. When the elevator doors opened, she was pleased that everyone on the car got off and they were the only two people to enter. She waited for the doors to close before pulling him down in a quick kiss. “Have a safe flight.”

He got off at the main floor lobby. “Call me after your appointment,” he said and stepped off the elevator, then waved goodbye as the doors closed again. She couldn’t help but notice he was wearing his panic face.

C&O Canal National Park

Lock House

10:00

Mulder was chewing on a sunflower seed, watching the cyclists and joggers run passed him in the sunshine. The breeze was gentle, but still held the nip of fall he’d felt early that morning. He wasn’t surprised when he heard rustling of leaves behind him.

“‘Bout time, I was ready to head for home,” he told Krycek. “You have ten minutes. Talk.”

Krycek smirked. “I can do better than that. Here, read for yourself.” He handed the agent a thick manila folder.

Mulder pulled out a few of the clippings, skimming them quickly. “Anyone who came into contact with the meteorites became sick,” he recited. “One death, reportedly connected to the meteorites,” he flipped to another clipping. “Whoa,” he said, slowing down and reading more closely. He looked over at Krycek. “Spontaneous combustion?”

“An isolated case,” Krycek said dismissively. “Check the charts toward the back. Mulder rocked his head from side to side in annoyance. He found some pages that looked like translations of medical records. “Wait a minute — ” He narrowed his eyes and glared at the other man. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Krycek shook his head. “I was skeptical at first, too. But I’ve been down there, Mulder. I’ve spoken to people. People who were sick before they encountered the meteorites came away cured. Look here,” he directed, flipping to a page near the back of the folder and handing it over to Mulder. “Read this one.”

“Nasopharengeal cancer — complete remission,” Mulder said aloud. He snapped the folder shut and handed it back to Krycek. “This is a load of crap, and you know it.”

“Mulder, why would I bother — this is too easy to check out,” the Russian reasoned.

“Look, there are cases, dozens of cases of illness and disorders that are vastly improved — most of the time they are cured! Think what this could mean!”

“It’s means you’re more of a fool than even I am,” Mulder sneered and started to walk away.

“Infertility — cured. Cancer — cured. All with just a touch of a rock from outer space. Can you really walk away from this, Mulder? Can you afford to walk away?”

“I can. I am,” Mulder said over his shoulder.

Krycek ran to catch up to him, slapping the folder in the crook of his arm. “And how is Agent Scully these days, Mulder?” he asked with a knowing look. At Mulder’s gapping silence, he continued. “There’s a phone number on that folder. Read the rest of the contents. Think about it. When you’re ready, call me. But remember, these things have a way of disappearing — sometimes right when you need them the most.”

Office of Dr. Omar Hofnagle, DVM

Normal, Illinois

10:36 a.m.

“Of course, the big money around McLean County’s in labradoodles and Persians — yuppie toys,” Dr. Omar Hofnagle admitted witheringly, leading Mulder toward his exam room. Mulder had decided a veterinary autopsy might provide a quicker lead than waiting for the county M.E. to schedule the late Ken Jenks, but a half-hour with the garrulous practitioner had him longing for a triple post-mortem in Scully’s cozy abattoir.

“Cloying, snipping, whining organisms. Don’t care for their pets, either,” Hofnagle cackled, and Mulder joined politely in, wondering vaguely where the vet kept whatever he used to put down horses. “Now, this is what I got into the business for,” Hofnagle continued, pushing into the austere cinder block room. A huge hog, bristly and cyanotic, lay on his side on a brushed steel table. Hofnagle slapped an inelastic ham. “Large animal practice – the meat and potatoes of veterinary science. Feeding the planet, keeping America’s farmers rolling…”

“As well as my bowels,” Mulder interrupted cheerfully. “Dr. Hofnagle, how about we discuss the other gray meat here? What killed Porky?”

Hofnagle stared at Mulder, then pondered the chow at Guantanamo and shook it off. “Well, as I’m sure you know, like the rest of the brood, as well as poor old Ken Jenks, she was exsanguinated. You ever seen anything like this?”

“Not around here. You know, the ancient Romans practiced a sacrifice called the suovetaurilia, in which a pig, a ram, and a bull were sacrificed to the deity Mars to purify the land.”

“Don’t know any ancient Romans around these parts,” the doctor grunted uncertainly. “And it was just the hogs. And Ken.”

Mulder shrugged. “Well, if it was that easy, you’d’ve called in an anthropologist, am I right? How about unusual phenomena. Any odd aerial sightings in the area? Electronic signals disrupted. Crop damage or, ah, strange configurations?”

Hofnagle’s jowls drooped. “Strange what?”

“Configurations. You know, uh, unusual, um, patterns…”

“Crop circles?” Hofnagle yelped. “Jet lag must have caught up with a vengeance, son. You think aliens did this?”

“Probably just wishful thinking. Was there a particular point of entry for the exsanguination?”

“Yup. Carotid, throat. It was like all chewed up. Same with the others. Except Ken — well, I don’t know about him — coroner wouldn’t let me get my hands, er, consult with him. And I can tell you, these porkers weren’t bled out by any Martians. Unless they shop at Sears. There were very clear tooling marks. Killer hacked away at the neck probably to cover whatever he used to suck out the blood.”

“You sure?” Mulder asked with a tinge of regret.

“Bet your ass,” Hofnagle sniffed. “Got eight seasons of CSU:Vegas on DVD.”

“You always deal with Jenks when he had a problem?”

“Jenny Romine, kid from U of I, my assistant, would do his herd health stuff the last few months. Maury Letrobe, my other assistant, took care of the Jenks’ dogs. Lab and a poodle. A poodle, for God’s sake,” he huffed.

“I’d like to talk to them, if they’re around.”

The vet crossed his arms. “Have to give you their cells. Jenny’s out at some state agroterrorism seminar down in Springfield, and it’s Maury’s day off. Real do-gooder – – volunteers at the Miller Park Zoo three times a week. I had to spend my time spaying kitties and weighing Pomeranians, guess I’d want something with some fangs and claws.”

“It’s not always what it’s cracked up to be,” Mulder sighed.

Miller Park Zoo

Bloomington, Illinois

11:02 p.m.

“Wildlife preservation,” Frieda Orenoski rhapsodized. “It’s the essence of veterinary science, the reason I do this.”

Frieda Orenoski was the physiological yin to Omar Hofnagle’s yang – muscular, leathery, and tanned, and if the bumper stickers on the sexagenarian zoo vet’s computer were any indication, no meat had ever leaked onto her potatoes. The Vietnamese potbellied pig in her embrace looked up at Mulder with a seemingly triumphant look in his eye, as if he could smell the rib tips the agent had wolfed after leaving Hofnagle.

“That’s great,” Mulder nodded insincerely as he dodged a group of tots beelining for Miller Park’s alpha pygmy goat. Once the porcine mutilations turned out to be of human origin, his fascination with the case had waned. “So, basically, Maurice Letrobe isn’t here.”

“Not for weeks now,” Frieda murmured. “He just started showing up late, then not showing at all. It was a shame – he was a real asset to the zoo. A lot of the volunteers are drawn to the mammals, to the furry, ‘cute’ creatures. If he hadn’t devoted his life to coddling pampered, inbred canines and felines, he could have been a brilliant herpetologist. No fear, but just the right amount of respect for the reptile temperament.”

Mulder started to compose his departure. “So, you got a number where I can reach him?”

Frieda released the swollen pig reluctantly and stood. “I have his app in the office. This way.”

Mulder nodded, reaching absently down to scratch the pig’s rough scalp. The feral oinker screamed, scuttling back into his stall.

“It’s the barbecue,” Frieda explained. “I could smell the stink of meat on you. Hey, great day out, eh?”

Normal Garden Apartments

Normal, Illinois

11:35 p.m.

Jennifer Romine apparently was hop scotching across the countryside, cutting a swatch through the local livestock, and Mulder gave up after three tries on her cell. Maury Letrobe lived near the Illinois State University campus, in a well-worn apartment complex on a tree-lined side street. Mulder figured the vet assistant had tired of his double-Doolitlean duties, but kept the cover of his zoo gig to keep his schedule at Hofnagle’s clinic light. As Mulder had expected, Letrobe’s voicemail had picked up a dozen times during the agent’s drive.

Apartment 8 was on the third floor. The door of Apartment 6 shook with L’il Kim, and Mulder could perceive the arduous cries of off-campus afternoon delight within Apartment 7, but 8 was silent. Mulder sighed and started to turn, when the smell hit him. Musty, organic, with a metallic edge. It was familiar – Mulder flashed on a dozen federal labs and, curiously, Woolworth’s.

Rats, he thought, not out of frustration but with a sense of deductive revelation. Mulder began to review his lock-picking options.

Kenneth & Karen Jenks Farm

RR2, Bloomington, Illinois

12:21 p.m.

“I have to believe it was Satanists,” Karen Jenks murmured as she settled into the armchair opposite Mulder. Outside the living room window, County Road 1500 North separated a scrubby front lawn from low, verdant rows of soybeans. “What they did to Kenny, to those poor animals.”

“Has there been a lot of that kind of activity around here?” Mulder inquired, gently fending off Karen’s affably deranged poodle. The weary widow shook her head absently. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, miles outside town. The Rowans down the way had some kids set up a meth lab in their old barn, and the teenagers like to drag race on the county roads Saturday nights. Who knows? Anyway. How can I help you, Agent?”

Mulder glanced at the photos on the mantle of the Jenks’ utilitarian fireplace – lanky, handsome Ken in his seed cap, leaning out the cab of his John Deere as Karen leaned on his leg. Ken and his fellow producers flanking some ag secretary three or four appointments back. Karen holding a black-and-white creature with wide black eyes – a Madagascar lemur, Mulder recalled — outside a fenced enclosure.

“You and your husband visit Africa?” he inquired.

Karen frowned, then followed his eyes to the mantle. “Heavens. No. I’m a booster at the zoo, in town. Gets boring, sometimes, helping Ken with the hogs and doing the grain marketing.”

“I can imagine,” Mulder said. He was interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel outside. A dirt-crusted F10 pickup pulled to a stop next to an aluminum Morton building, and a lean, bearded young man jumped out. The boy stopped next to Mulder’s rental car, and he hesitated before mounting the porch.

“Hmm,” Karen said, her frown returning. “That’s…That’s the boy who works for our vet. Dr. Hofnagle’s probably sending one of his wife’s casseroles. I’m up to my butt in casseroles. Pardon me, I better see what he wants.” The farmer’s wife practically lunged for the door. Mulder followed, and when Maury Letrobe materialized in the doorway, the assistant vet glanced anxiously at her. He was a cerebrally outdoorsy man, the cuffs of his jeans dyed with red soil, his fingers clean but calloused.

“Uh,” he began articulately. “Hi, um, Mrs. Jenks. Sorry about Mr. Jenks.”

“Thank you, uh, Maury, right?” Karen stumbled artfully. “I appreciate your coming over.”

Maury blinked. “Uh, sure. Where is she?”

“She?”

“Um, Maggie. You left a message she’d been throwing up.”

“Wow,” Mulder breathed behind Karen. “A vet who makes doggie calls. Things sure are different here in the Heartland.”

“Well,” Maurice smiled.

“Well, why don’t you come in, Maurice?” Mulder continued. “I think you and Mrs. Jenks, and I have a lot to talk about.”

“Talk?” Maurice sputtered. “About what?”

Mrs. Jenks’ hand went to her eyes.

“About Karen milking your snake,” Mulder suggested. “Both figuratively and literally.”

**

“Why disguise a murder as a weirder murder?” Mulder posed as the widow and the vet settled in. “Once I realized we weren’t dealing with aliens or vampires or ancient Romans, the question became, why set up such an implausible murder scenario? Why exsanguinatie not only the victim but also a flock of pigs?”

“Herd,” Maurice muttered.

Mulder waved it away. “I think Mrs. Jenks got bored out here on the farm and got her groove on with the studly young veterinary assistance who handled her puppies. That’s why you both volunteered at the zoo – that was your rendezvous. Tuesdays with Maury. ‘Til you two retired to Maury’s musty love nest. Just you two and the rats.”

“Rats?” Maury whispered.

“Yeah, you could use, oh, maybe a few hundred pine tree fresheners in that little Love Shack of yours. The place was redolent with rodents. And there’s only one reason you’d stockpile the vermin. For food. Snake food. Frieda the Zookeeper was very impressed with your herpetological skills.” Mulder checked the driveway, then turned back to the dumbstruck couple.

“That red dirt on your jeans,” he continued. “You pick that up in Sedona, Arizona? There’s a company that sells tee-shirts dyed with it. And I’ll bet red dirt isn’t all you brought back from the desert. I found a passel of rattlers in your apartment. Along with boas and a few dozen other serpentine species. He taught you, didn’t he, Karen?”

Karen stared at the agent.

“He taught you to handle snakes, didn’t he? Maybe how to milk their venom, too. Maury didn’t realize he was handing you a way out of your marriage. You decided to get rid of Ken. Out in the country here, it wouldn’t be so strange for a farmer to get bitten by a snake. What did you do – set one loose in the hog pen at feeding time? Or extract some venom to inject into his system? And then you discovered some of your rattlers had flown the coop, right, Maury? Maybe Karen’d suggested she wouldn’t mind shedding her hubby. Except she didn’t realize the cops might be suspicious if they found Mr. Jenks pumped full of Western diamondback venom. Rattlesnake venom is a hematoxin – a bloodborne poison. You got out here too late – you couldn’t get rid of the body, so you had to remove the blood from the scene. Bet if we search the machine shop out there, we’ll find a pump or a vacuum with traces of Ken’s blood and venom in it.”

“You should’ve called me,” Maury chided.

“I did it for us, Baby,” Karen responded.

The room fell silent as Maury looked to Karen. Karen glanced at Mulder, then back at her boyfriend, who nodded.

“You kids are so transparent,” Mulder sighed. He reached into his jacket and withdrew his phone. Flipping it open, Mulder displayed the lit screen. Two heads turned as gravel crunched outside and two McLean County Sheriff’s units pulled aside Maury’s F-10.

“My partner says I’m not a team player,” Mulder admitted, rising. “But I like to think I’m capable of growth.”

McLean County Sheriff’s Department

Bloomington, Illinois

12:54 p.m.

“I am just really truly sorry about this,” Deputy Janine Crewson said for the eighth time, setting a paper bag and a waxed cup on the interview table. “This new system’s crashed three times since we got it last week. But the IT guy thinks we’ll have her up and running in no time. Then we can clean up the paperwork and get you over to the Holiday Inn.”

“Oh, boy,” Mulder forced a grin as he plucked at the bag.

The blonde deputy paused. “Oh, yeah, and there was a little mix-up with supper. The guy at Subpreme Sandwiches screwed up your order and gave you the Voracious Vegan instead of the Sicilian Mob o’Meat.”

“Ah.” Mulder looked up, stricken.

“So, OK then. Bon appetit.” The deputy vanished, leaving the agent to his vegetation.

Mulder tore into a mouthful of romaine and zucchini and reached into his briefcase for Krycek’s report. Five minutes later, the sandwich was gone and Mulder’s stomach was roiling as if he’d eaten half a Vietnamese potbellied pig with a side of pygmy goat. The contents of the thick file were, quite simply, earthshaking. Metastatic cancers chased into remission. The effects of catastrophic stroke reversed. Even a final stage AIDS patient scrubbed completely of the virus.

It was fantastic, a tale out of Michael Crichton by way of Stephen King. But the documentation appeared kosher, and somehow, Mulder knew Krycek was not leading him down a blind alley. Burping up a cloud of eggplant, he reached into his jacket pocket.

“Took you so long?” Krycek demanded before Mulder could ID himself.

“OK, you smug son-of-a-bitch,” Mulder grumbled. “It’s no Danielle Steel, but I have to admit it’s pretty compelling reading.”

“Lambert Airport, St. Louis. American Airlines. One business class ticket for an Oliver Wendell Douglas, in honor of your brilliant agricultural sleuthing. Great job with the pigs, Spooky.”

Omniscient bastard. “Bite me, Krycek.”

Krycek laughed nastily, and the line went dead. The interview room door edged open. “Hey, we’re back up,” Deputy Crewson sang. “We’ll have you in a room in no time.”

“Nice offer,” Mulder said. “But I need a ride to the airport.”

Lambert Airport

St. Louis, Mo.

2:13 p.m.

“Enjoy your wanding?” Krycek smirked from his post outside Starbucks as Mulder emerged from the security checkpoint, stuffing metal back into his pockets. Mulder regarded his nemesis balefully. “I could use my pull with Homeland Security to get you a cavity search.”

“Domestic life’s dulled your repartee, Skippy. C’mon.”

At the AA gate, they found a pair of seats away from the scattering of businessmen, seniors, and fashionably grungy kids seeking pilgrimage to the Pacific Northwest.

“There was another landfall, near Seattle,” Krycek informed Mulder. “It came in under the radar, but I know a guy in Tacoma has a small observatory.”

“I’ve got one testicle lower than the other,” Mulder commiserated. “I’m sure the scene’s been trampled by several hundred grad students who’ve never been laid.”

“This one fell off the coast. Island’s uninhabited.”

“Great,” Mulder sighed. “Well, at least Scully’ll be happy. Angelina was my original desert island choice.”

Krycek leaned back, glanced at Paris Hilton on CNN. “How is your far better half?”

“She’ll be delighted you asked. She’s OK, I guess. Still coming to grips with Charlie’s death.”

Krycek sneered. “Yeah, we’re all kind of broken up about the little shit. I were her, my only regret would be not pulling the trigger herself.”

“She’s not built like you, Krycek,” Mulder said.

“Yeah, that didn’t escape my attention. Though, sometimes, I wonder about you. Jesus, Mulder, we’re both getting too old for this shit. It’s never going to happen for me, but you’ve found the exit door. Maybe you ought to think about taking it, settling down.”

“Krycek,” Mulder yawned, “I think I liked you better when you were a vicious, sociopathic psycho.”

Act II

“You made the right decision,” Krycek said smugly.

“Let’s get one thing straight — I still consider you a traitor and a son of a bitch. And if I find out this is a wild goose chase I will happily beat the shit out of you and leave you behind to die. Are we clear on this?” Mulder sneered.

“Crystal,” Krycek answered bluntly.

Mulder glanced up at the boarding lounge announcement board and saw their destination. “Seattle,” he said casually.

“That’s as far as we’re going by plane,” Krycek explained. As he was about to continue, the announcement was made to begin boarding. They shuffled to the line, dutifully handed over their boarding passes, walked the long jet way that always reminded Mulder of a giant, metal and carpet umbilical cord and with very little difficulty found their row.

“You were saying,” Mulder prodded when they had settled into their seats. “It’s an island off the coast of Washington. Technically, it’s United States waterway. It’s uninhabited, unless you happen to count sea lions and some endangered bird species. It’s also volcanic and fairly active, even for that region. We’ll drive to the coast and rent a boat.”

“You honestly think I would trust you to steer me to an uninhabited island?” Mulder asked dubiously. “Why can’t we charter a plane?”

“No landing strip,” Krycek replied.

“What makes you so sure that’s where the meteorites landed?”

Krycek smiled. “I have friends in high places. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘Google Earth’, Mulder?”

Mulder frowned his displeasure.

“Look, the tracking stations got a pretty clear path of the trajectory and there were some hot spots on the island reported from the satellite pictures that night.”

“Hot spots on a volcano. Imagine my shock,” Mulder deadpanned.

“You know, you chose to come along, Mulder. I’m just the guide dog here. Seems to me you could have stayed home with the little ‘almost-wife’. While we’re on the subject, why haven’t you two pumped out a few Junior G-kids by now? Isn’t that what guys your age do — settle down and start a dynasty?”

“Shut the fuck up, Krycek,” Mulder growled.

“Oooh, touchy. The old six-shooter loaded with blanks, Mulder? Or is the problem with the missus?”

“Tossing you in a lava flow is looking pretty damned good from where I’m sitting,” Mulder said in a low, threatening voice around a mouthful of teeth for the benefit of the flight attendant serving drinks in the row ahead of them.

Krycek grinned and then feigned a yawn. “Look, once we get there we’ll be going non-stop. I suggest you make the most of this flight and get some shut eye.”

Mulder was still fuming as he closed his eyes against the rays of sunlight bouncing off the infinitesimal little cracks in the airplane window’s Plexiglas. But somehow, sleep found him.

He dreamed he was pulling into their parking space behind the duplex. He grabbed his briefcase out of the backseat and slammed the door. It must have been some kind of signal because the back door to the kitchen opened and a tiny girl, no more than four or five came running down the back steps.

“Daddy, Daddy, come see what I made!” the girl cried happily as she flung herself into Mulder’s arms.

Mulder dropped the briefcase to the ground and accepted the hugs and kisses, returning them in kind. “What did you make today?” he asked with a grin.

The child squirmed to be put down and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. “I made a picture for your wall at work — where you put all the ‘portant papers,” she said proudly.

A young woman, college-aged, was standing in the kitchen, wiping her hands.

Mulder felt certain he had never seen her before but somehow she was familiar. “Sorry Mr. M. She got away from me.”

“That’s OK, Dani,” he replied.

“Dinner’s in the oven, the Squirt and I already set the table and if it’s OK with you, I need to head out. Class tonight.”

“Sure, sure,” he said with a nod of his head.

The little girl returned to the kitchen and handed him a piece of white card stock paper. She beamed up at him as he looked at the picture. It was a stick figure man with brown hair and glasses, and a little girl with flowers in her hand standing in a park with trees. There were square shaped boxes on the ground by their feet.

Above their heads were clouds and on one of the clouds was a stick figure woman with red hair smiling down on them.

“See, Daddy. I made Mommy smiling down on us from heaven.”

Mulder woke with a start, tears streaming down his face. He swallowed several times until he could feel his heart rate slow from its pounding beat in his ears. He chewed on his lip and stared out at the clouds, wiping the moisture from his face.

There would be no more sleep for him, not till they found those meteorites.

Act II scene 2

SeaTac International Airport

3:35 pm

One thing Mulder always appreciated about flying west was that at least it saved time. They had left St. Louis a little after one, they arrived in Seattle twenty minutes after three. At 3:30 they were standing at the Lariat counter using Mulder’s credit card to sign for a Jeep Cherokee to take them to the coast.

“The consortium doesn’t pay you?” Mulder asked derisively as he stuffed the card back in his wallet.

“Oh, like you’re going to fill out an expense report for this one,” Krycek snorted.

“You haven’t even turned on your cell phone since we left the plane. What’s the matter? Afraid your partner might tell you to get your ass home?”

“You drive,” Mulder said tossing Krycek the keys, ignoring the man completely. In the passenger seat of the car, he leaned back and stared out the window, not allowing himself to fall asleep again.

Finally, he could stand the silence no long. “What’s in this for you, Krycek?” he demanded. “What are you getting out of this?”

The Russian smiled. “Fame. Glory. A shit load of cash.”

Mulder continued to glare at him, not satisfied with the glib answer.

“What do you want from me, Mulder? You already have a low opinion of me. If I were to tell you that maybe I just want to see if this is manna from heaven – the way to cure the coming plague, would you believe me? No. So why bother?” He turned his attention back to the road.

“I just don’t get you,” Mulder said with a heavy sigh. “You kill, you steal, you double deal on a dime and yet you think you’re so noble.”

“Oh, and you’re so different,” Krycek snorted.

“I’ve never killed anyone in cold blood,” Mulder sneered, eyes narrowed.

“No. You just let them die in your wake,” Krycek shot back. “Or drag them along in the darkness. Which is the greater crime, my friend? A quick death or a slow, painful one?”

“Just drive,” Mulder ordered.

“That’s what I’m doin’,” the other man snarled.

They were approaching the coast and Mulder could smell the salty tang of the ocean ahead of them. Krycek pulled the car into a gas station convenience store. “We should get some food, the island doesn’t have a McDonald’s franchise,” he noted sourly.

Mulder pulled himself out of the car and headed for the store. Hours on the plane and now at least an hour in the car was making his back ache. When had he gotten so old that he couldn’t ride for days at a time?

A small bell chimed as he pushed open the door. He looked over at the attendant, a skinny kid in his early twenties. At his meaningful glance around the kid pointed to an alcove in the corner. “Restrooms are over there,” he said with a forced smile.

Mulder glanced behind him. Krycek was busy with gassing up the car. He walked toward the restrooms and quietly pulled out his cell phone, turning it on. It beeped and chirped and then chirped again. On the third chirp he looked down. Searching for network. It continued to search for network. Mulder sighed. They were too far away from a cell tower. He shut the offending object down a little more forcefully than the owners manual instructed and shoved it into his pocket again.

He stood in the bathroom, considering his options. Spying the paper towel dispenser next to the sink, he reached into his suit jacket pocket and extracted a pen. He pulled off a decent sized sheet of paper and composed his note to Scully. He knew his partner. If he hadn’t called in by dinnertime out east, there would be hell to pay.

Leaving the restroom with the paper towel note lying folded in half at the back of the sink, he wandered over to the snack foods selection. A quick glance told him that he was right in camera range. If Scully saw that he wasn’t bound and gagged, that he was free to move around, maybe it would alleviate some of her worry.

He didn’t bother to hide his identity at any point in the process of considering and finally picking a snack. Krycek had entered the store from getting the gas and was anxious to leave. Mulder ignored him and finally selected bags of corn nuts, even when sunflower seeds were within easy reach. He hoped she remembered his propensity to get sick on corn nuts. He hoped she’d see it as a warning.

By utilizing his credit card all along the trip he had no doubt that his partner would be able to follow their trail with her eyes blindfolded and both hands tied behind her back. The problem was, he didn’t want her going out to that island — not until he knew if this whole little escapade was a trap. He’d find the meteorites and bring one back to her. He patted the pocket that contained the evidence bag he’d thought to pack after he met with Krycek at the canal. Whatever they found would be safe in it.

“It’s not Au Bon Pain, for crissakes,” Krycek growled.

 

“I got it,” Mulder said, fighting the urge to look up at the security camera. He sauntered over to the counter and laid the snacks down to be scanned. Paying with his credit card again, he smiled at the young man behind the counter, gathered the three bags and followed Krycek out to the car. He glanced at his watch. It was just a little before 5 pm.

“It’s going to be dark when we get there,” Mulder noted.

“I have GPS and we can get some flashlights,” Krycek replied. “If we wait, they’ll be gone,” he said again.

“I know, I know. I just don’t know if we want to spend the night on that island.”

“We can stay on the boat. We’re night fishing, remember?”

Mulder shrugged and settled in, watching the northwest coastline scenery whiz by.

Oak Harbor, WA

5:45 pm

Krycek pulled up to a parking space next to a weathered clapboard building proclaiming ‘boats for rent’. He looked over at Mulder and nodded out the passenger side window. “There’s a fishing and supply store across the way. Go get some rope, some flares, a couple of flashlights — ”

“A helicopter?” Mulder added hopefully.

Krycek rolled his eyes. “Meet me back here in thirty minutes.”

Mulder hauled himself out of the car and strolled across the parking lot and the little street. The harbor was fairly busy for the time of evening, and he saw many people carrying fishing gear and tackle toward the long boardwalk. He nodded to a few as he opened the door of the sporting goods store.

It didn’t take him long to gather supplies. He found an inexpensive day pack to hold all the gear and some energy bars and bottles of water were tossed in at the last minute. Again, his ‘Scully voice’ at the back of his mind was telling him to also pack a couple of the mylar blankets they had on racks at the check out counter, so he snagged two of them. All in all, he was better equipped than they usually were when they went out into the wilds together.

Mulder chewed on a hangnail as the clerk wearily scanned his items. God, how did he get himself in this mess? He knew Krycek was possibly the last person on the planet he should trust. Whatever happened to ‘trust no one’? He could hear Scully saying that as plain as day. But didn’t she go off with old Smokey once, when the stakes were high enough?

“That’ll be $143.59,” the clerk said. Mulder bit his lip hard. This trip was costing him a fortune. He handed over his Visa and signed the slip. The transaction over, he put everything in the day pack and hoisted it on his back then headed out the door to meet Krycek.

His companion was standing outside the boat rental, waiting for him. “You forgot your corn nuts,” he said blandly as he handed the snacks to Mulder. Mulder cringed slightly, but took off his pack and stuffed the bags in the one of the outer pockets.

“Do we have a boat?” Mulder asked, shouldering the pack again.

“Over there. The Gillian Ann. He’s gassing it up right now.” Krycek led the way over to where several fishing boats were moored. Theirs was an older model, but looked sea worthy. “Can you handle a boat?”

Mulder eyed the small vessel warily. “In a pinch,” he said. He thanked his lucky stars that his Scully voice had also reminded him to pick up some Dramamine while at the sporting goods store. A seasickness patch would have been preferable, but he would have to make do.

“Let’s cast off,” Krycek said with a resigned shrug.

As they made their way out of the harbor, the sun sank into the water, casting a beautiful orange path that Mulder, had he been feeling more fanciful, could have considered a yellow brick road. As it was, the light of the dying sun only stayed with them for a short time and as the shoreline disappeared, the gathering gloom increased.

The new moon gave off no light, but the stars were outstanding. The little boat sped along the mostly small waves, Krycek proving to be an able seaman from what little Mulder could ascertain. The Dramamine was doing a passable job of keeping the agent’s stomach contents in the correct place, but the downside was the sleepiness that was quickly becoming a problem. He sat down on one of the benches along the side of the boat and leaned back to find the constellations just to keep himself awake.

 

It was so beautiful out on the water as the stars took command of the night sky without the glaring intrusion of the moon to steal their glory. He thought about how Scully would love to just sit there on that little boat, looking up at the stars. They didn’t get enough time to do things like that — just sit and look up at the night sky.

When they did have a night outside it usually involved a stake out or an ill-fated trip to the forest. So where was his beloved when he was soaking up the galactic panorama? Chasing his sorry ass across the continent, more than likely.

What was he going to say to her when he returned? How could he possible explain this latest ditch? The very reminder of the word caused him to cringe physically. He hadn’t ditched his partner in a good long while — at least not since they’d started cohabitating. Did it count as a ditch if he left her a note? Admittedly, the fact that the note was deposited on the sink of a men’s room in a gas station convenience store probably somewhat diminished its intrinsic value, but it was a note, nonetheless.

Mulder sighed. What was he really doing out here? Why in the world had he agreed to accompany one of their worst enemies on a fool’s errand? Rocks couldn’t cure people! Scully would be the first one to howl in derision at such a claim. If he were to mention that he was trying to cure her infertility — he could imagine how uncomfortable sleeping in the tiny unheated garage for the rest of the winter was going to be.

They had options. Scully had viable ova in storage, he had sperm — at some point in the not too distant future he could envision them preparing a nursery, going to childbirth classes, maybe even hiring a baby nurse. No, probably not. They would probably have to depend on Maggie or even the gunmen, assuming they could be trained to diaper a baby.

Now he was just being ridiculous!

No, it wasn’t even the fertility that was scaring him into running all the way across the country with a dangerous man. It was that damned appointment she’d had with her oncologist. Annual check up — that was a supreme joke. Who were they kidding? If the chip that he’d found had caused her remission, any change would mean death. There would be no cure, no last minute reprieve. Either it functioned as required or it didn’t. There was no warranty, no service contract. It was not returnable.

If her remission was a miracle, as he felt she truly believed, they didn’t really need a yearly reminder of the horror they had once lived through. But if, as the third possible option, the cancer had simply gone into hiding and was even now poising to make a reappearance . . . that was what he truly feared. If there was still a dark, evil presence in her blood cells that could turn on her in a heartbeat — he was more than willing to go to the ends of the earth and beyond to find a way to keep that evil from gaining control again.

That was why he was sailing across the starlit water with a sworn enemy. That was why he was willing to risk life and limb. If there was a chance that these rocks from the heavens had the power to keep Scully with him, healthy, whole, for as long as he could — nothing and no one would stop him from finding those rocks and bringing them home.

Act III Scene 1

FBI Headquarters

Washington DC

Same Day

2:15 pm Eastern Time

Scully juggled her purse, the brown paper sack and the grande mocha cappuccino as she struggled to get the right key into the lock on the office door. Where was Mulder when she needed an extra pair of hands? But then, since Mulder wasn’t around, she had the office all to herself, including the turkey Rueben with fat free 1000 Island and extra kraut presently residing in its deli bag and about to slip from her fingers.

She loved her partner with all her heart, but there were times, like when he was stealing bites from her lunch, or launching pencils at the ceiling tiles, or whining and shining those puppy dog eyes at her so that she would cave in and do the latest bureaucratic bullshit paper work that she wondered if maybe all the articles warning about office romances weren’t on to something after all.

But then again, hadn’t she was told him she wouldn’t change a thing, flukemen included?

The doctor’s office had been busy, as were most oncologists. The nurse had been apologetic, as usual. When Zuckerman arrived, he was looking slightly harried but smiled affectionately at her. “Ah, my little miracle,” he said, shaking her offered hand. “How are you feeling, Dana?”

“Great,” she told him, and it still amazed her that her words had never been truer. It had been ten years almost to the day since her remission from the cancer that was at one time a death sentence. Ten years and so much had happened. She found and lost a daughter, her partner had found and lost his sister. Perhaps the most important event happened quietly, in his apartment six years ago when they finally stopped tap-dancing around their relationship. There had been high peaks and low valleys in those ten years but again, she wouldn’t have traded them for the world.

“Well, we need to run the battery of tests, as always, but if I had to make a guess by just looking at you, I’d say we’re in for pretty much the same news we always get every year. Why don’t you change into that gown and I’ll call Stephanie in to take you down to x-ray.”

It had been over in the blink of an eye. Then came the difficult part. Because the blood work took time and the x-rays had to be read by the radiologist, she was left to dress and go back to the office to await final word on the results.

“Dana, you go relax — make that partner take you to a nice late lunch. Where is he? He’s usually in here complaining about the selection of magazines in the waiting room,” Stephanie asked as Dana finished dressing and was about to head for the door.

“We had a case come up at the last minute. He’s out in Illinois, but I expect him home tonight.”

“Well, then make him take you to a nice late dinner,” Stephanie countered. “Dr. Zuckerman will call with the results about 5. Should he call you at home?”

“Yes, thanks,” Scully confided. “I’ll be at home after 5:30. You have the number on my chart.”

“I see it here,” Stephanie nodded. “Well, have some fun.”

Once she was at the office, expense reports and end of the year vehicle reports were the last things she wanted to deal with. She sat down at the phone and listened intently to her voicemails. When she got to the one from Mulder, she sighed. He had a lead on the murder, he was going out to interview two possible suspects, yes he had back up. He might be late. The man could actually turn a molehill into a mountain. And now that meant he probably wouldn’t be home that night after all.

It was silly, and she was the first to admit that, but she needed to hear his voice, to speak to him. These yearly appointments always dredged up bad memories and she just needed Mulder’s often-humorous off-the-cuff report from the field to sweep the bad feelings away. She quickly dialed his cell phone. It rang directly to his voice mail.

She frowned at the receiver in her hand. That was odd. Mulder had just purchased a new cell phone and had been pleased at how long the battery was lasting. Unless he forgot to turn it on after he got off the plane at Bloomington-Normal. But that didn’t figure because he’d called her to leave the voicemail message. It didn’t make her feel any less uneasy to realize that she was probably over- reacting. She picked up the phone again and this time dialed the McLean County Sheriff’s Department. It was picked up almost immediately.

It was a relatively short conversation. The Deputy who answered was quick to inform Scully that her partner had been taken to the airport just an hour before.

That confused her a little, but she thanked the young woman and hung up. So maybe he decided not to stay and look into the case. That meant there was a good chance he was on a plane back home and his phone was off while he was in the air. She dialed his number again, this time leaving a message that she would be home after five and to call her as soon as he landed.

She hung up the phone and looked over at the reports she had planned to complete. Suddenly, that idea had lost all its original charm, if it had any. She remembered a sample she had taken to the lab a few days before and decided to go up and check on the analysis. She didn’t feel like sitting in a quiet empty office for the rest of the afternoon.

FBI Headquarters

Forensics Lab

6:05 pm Eastern Time

Scully chuckled at the joke one of the lab techs had just told on another pair of agents and glanced at her watch. It was after 6! She’d told Zuckerman’s office to call her at home and she’d told Mulder she’d be at home after 5. She could have missed both phone calls! She hurriedly made her goodbyes and almost knocked a few people down in her haste to get to the basement.

On a whim, she looked at the phone, but there was no message waiting indicated. She sighed and grabbed her purse, briefcase and jacket and headed out to the parking garage.

Sewer construction barricades and rush hour traffic were in full force and it took her nearly 20 minutes to get to the bridge across Rock Creek Park and then another 15 minutes to get to N street. By the time she pulled into the their parking space behind the duplex, it was nearly 6:45. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Knowing Mulder, when he couldn’t reach her at home he would either keep calling her cell phone or grab a cab.

She stuck her hand in her pocket as she ran up the back steps and pulled out her cell phone. No missed calls, no messages. That was odd, but it was possible that Mulder either had found a ride home or that his flight was delayed. She opened the door to the kitchen and made her way to the front of the house and the stairs to the second floor. When she got to their bedroom, she picked up the phone and found that Zuckerman’s office had called.

“I usually don’t leave a message but it seemed cruel to make you wait till tomorrow for the results, Dana,” she heard the oncologist’s message on their voicemail. “Everything checked out fine. You are fit as a fiddle. So I guess I won’t be seeing you again until next November. Hope you and Agent Mulder enjoy the holidays and if you need anything from our office just let us know. Take care and see you next year.”

The utter relief she experienced was nearly overwhelming. Scully sat on the edge of the bed and let a few errant tears of reprieve slide down her cheeks before wiping them away hastily. She let out a big breath and smiled. She couldn’t wait to tell Mulder. She knew he’d been worried as well and from the looks of him that morning after she’d reminded him of the appointment, he wouldn’t want to wait to hear the good news.

She tried his cell phone again as she changed into some soft fleece sweats and her slippers. Later, once he was home, she planned on an evening spent with the two of them ensconced in the big claw foot tub with a platter of cheese and crackers and a bottle of wine for sustenance. The fantasy playing through her mind caused a larger grin on her face that turned to a frown when she got her partner’s voicemail again.

“Mulder, where are you? Look, I know you were worried, but there’s good news. I just heard from Zuckerman’s office and the results are all great. I’m still in remission, no sign of the cancer. I’m planning a little celebration for two if you’re up for it after your big ‘pig’ adventure. Call me as soon as you get this, I’ll be waiting. Love you.” She clicked off the phone and decided to make herself a salad to tide her over until she heard from him.

3605 N Street

Georgetown, DC

7:30 pm Eastern Time

She knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling she had. She glanced at the clock on the DVR and bit her lip. Picking up the cordless phone in the living room, she dialed the office.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation, how can I direct your call?” the voice answered.

She recognized the voice instantly. “Corrine, hi, this is Agent Scully. Do you know if Kim Cook, AD Skinner’s assistant has left for the day?”

“Oh, hi, Agent Scully. I don’t think so, calls are still being taken at their office. I think all the A.D.s are working on the budget supplemental. Let me connect you.”

In a few beeps, she was on the line to Kim. “Hi, Kim, it’s Dana. I know this sounds silly, but can you tell me what airlines Mulder flew out to Illinois on this morning? He hasn’t turned up and I just wondered if he was stranded on a runway somewhere.”

“Sure, Dana. He’s on United to Chicago’s O’Hare and then United Express to Bloomington-Normal. Return flights are the same, but his ticket was opened ended, as always.”

“Thanks, Kim. I’ll try to track him down that way.”

“If you can’t find him, you know where to call,” Kim said breezily.

“I’m sure it won’t be necessary to call out the troops, but thanks, Kim.”

She switchhooked the phone and dialed the airlines from memory. “Hello, this is Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI, badge number JTT0331613. I’m trying to locate a passenger — Fox W. Mulder. He should have been on a flight from Bloomington, Illinois to Washington, DC tonight. Yes, I’ll hold.”

It only took a moment for the airline service representative to come back on the line. “You have no passenger listed on any flight to Washington, DC by that name,” Scully repeated slowly, the thought chasing around in her mind. “Could you check and see if that name shows up on any flight this afternoon or evening? Thank you.”

In a moment, the person returned. “He left Bloomington-Normal for St. Louis Lambert but then you have no record of him?” Scully reiterated what she’d just been told. “Is it possible for you to access Lambert Airport and tell me if a Fox Mulder was listed for any flight out of that airport this evening?”

It took a little longer, but the answer did not please Scully. “None whatsoever,” she said evenly. “Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.” She hung up the phone; her earlier good mood now completely vanished. “Damn him! When I find him, I’ll kill him myself!” She dialed the Hoover Building operator one more time. “Corrine, please put me into Assistant Director Skinner. I’m afraid we have a situation.”

Skinner was on the phone in a heartbeat. “Scully, what’s the emergency? Are you at the hospital?”

“No, sir, nothing like that — at least not yet. Sir, I can’t find Mulder. I got a voicemail from him this afternoon telling me that he was intending to stay out in Illinois a little longer than expected, but when I couldn’t get him on his cell phone, I called the Sheriff’s department. They told me they’d put him on a plane for home early afternoon. He should have arrived by now so I called Kim and checked the airlines. They show Mulder going to St. Louis but then he just disappears. He’s not listed on any flight into DC tonight.” She stopped talking long enough to pull much needed air into her lungs.

“Scully, it’s only a little after 8. The airlines probably just made a mistake or Mulder got a flight that diverted him to another airport before making it back here.”

“Sir, I thought of that. I specifically asked if he had been on _any_ flight out of Lambert International. They have no record of him leaving the airport.”

“Even so, mistakes are pretty common with those on line passenger lists, Scully. We really need to wait to see the actual passenger manifest from the flight crew to make a solid determination. Now I’m in the middle of a budget meeting, and God knows I’d love to be doing something else right now but I really think it’s premature. If you haven’t heard from Mulder by midnight, give me a call and we’ll see what we can find out. Until then, I really have to get back to this damned meeting.”

“Yes sir,” Scully said reluctantly. “I’m sorry I interrupted — ”

“Scully, it’s not a problem. Given Mulder’s past actions, I can understand your concern. But I think it might resolve itself if we just give it a little time.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” she said dully. “I’ll call you if I hear from him.”

“And I’ll call you if you haven’t called me. The way this is going, I’ll still be crunching numbers at the witching hour. Try not to worry, Dana.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

She chewed on her lip again, thinking. Mulder had been acting funny all morning, but she’d assumed it was because of her appointment. Still, he’d acted like he wanted to talk to her when he got back from his run.

The little warning bells went off in her mind. How often had Mulder stumbled on an informant while taking his morning run? Too many times to count. And from past experience, she knew that Georgetown U. had installed security cameras at the track and bleachers. She ran upstairs to change into something a little more decorous than sweats and hurried out the door.

Georgetown University Campus Security

8:30 pm Eastern Time

“Agent Scully — something up?” asked the senior security guard when she presented her credentials to the guard at the desk. She’d become acquainted with most of the campus police since she and Mulder had moved to the neighborhood.

“Officer Zickus, hello. I was wondering if I could view your tape of the track this morning? I’m just looking for the time between 6:30 and 7 am.”

“Sure. Got it right over here.” Zickus pulled up a file on his computer monitor.

“Starting at 6:25 am,” he told her and clicked a few keys. The monitor was now a sharp and crisp image of the GU track. In the distance, she could clearly make out her partner with his usual gait and grace. But then another person came into the frame wearing a hoodie and keeping his face averted from the range of the camera. In a few moments, Mulder loped over to the bleachers for his cool down and some water. The other person made his way over as well. She watched as Mulder glanced warily at the other man, but continued with his cool down. Then, the other man moved closer to Mulder and they talked for a few moments. Mulder obviously wasn’t pleased with the direction of the conversation and started to leave a couple of times.

Finally, the other man said something and turned just enough to get his face into the camera’s range.

It was clearly Alex Krycek.

“Thanks, Officer Zickus. I’ve seen enough,” Scully said tersely.

“Do you want a copy of this?” Zickus asked.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she replied, softening her tone. In a moment she had a shiny CD-Rom version of her partner’s morning encounter in one hand, her cell phone in the other and she was halfway to her car.

“Kim, tell AD Skinner that I’m on my way into the office. And let him know it’s time to call out the hounds.”

Act III scene 2

Unidentified island

36 miles north of Puget Sound, Washington

11:07 p.m. Pacific Time

“I see the cabana right there,” Mulder considered. “The tennis court would look great over by that volcanic outcropping. Oh, or maybe that volcanic outcropping. The pool would have to be aboveground, of course, unless you brought a few blocks of C-4.”

“Hey, Dane Cook,” Krycek snapped. “Shut the fuck up and help me unload this shit.” The “island” was little more that a rocky projection, the pinnacle of what Mulder recognized as a stratovolcano, composed of many layers of hardened lava and volcanic ash. Same as Mount Rainier. Given Krycek’s receptivity to his observations on Washington’s topography, seismic activity, and marine species, Mulder hadn’t shared that geological insight. Perhaps the Sasquatch discussion had been the last straw – that had been when Krycek had thrown Mulder’s cap into the inlet.

Mulder pulled his backpack from the boat and grunted as he strapped it on. “Well, at least it’s a small haystack, relative to Rhode Island.”

“Roughly 2.54 square miles,” Krycek noted. “If you can cut the schtick and the geektalk, we might be able to wrap this up by sunup.”

“Well, then, let’s rock-and-roll,” Mulder suggested, surveying the landscape of petrified magma. “Well, rock, anyway.”

Krycek hefted the ropes and equipment, then led the way.

**

After three hours of scouring the monotonous topography with Krycek’s modified Sigma SD10, Mulder had broken out the Yahoo and Cornnuts. The “hot mirror” had been removed from the digital camera to convert it to a heat-sensing monitor, but the sophisticated gadget had yet to read a heat signature amid the igneous nooks and crannies.

“Your buddy was positive about this?” Mulder inquired through a mouthful of chocolate grit. “He wouldn’t’ve decided to snag the rock for himself, would he? There is a growing black market for meteors, you know. Collectors flock to village markets in Mauritania to find falls harvested from the Sahara. I heard of a French drug dealer who got busted trying to round up a crew to ‘liberate’ a few of the choicer pieces from the London Natural History Museum. Maybe the temptation was just too great for your pal.”

Krycek chugged a Red Bull and set the can on the slab next to his natural throne. “My ‘pal’ once watched me systematically rupture every vertebra in the spine of a Yemeni arms dealer before castrating him with a Sears vice grip. I don’t think a few bucks off eBay would be worth pissing me off.”

Mulder popped the last oversized kernel. “You are a natural-born storyteller, Alex. I’ll bring the s’mores the next time. Let’s go.”

 

Krycek’s original timetable had proven overly optimistic, even with minimal schtick. By 2 a.m. PST, they’d scoured only half the island’s surface. It was slow-going, passing the halogen torch and the Sigma back and forth as they scanned every quadrant.

“What’s the game plan?” Mulder finally broke the dark silence. “I mean, once we find the Miracle Meteor? This thing would be worth millions, maybe billions if its curative properties could be analyzed and replicated. You getting a finder’s fee from the Little Sisters of Charity?”

For a second, the shadow behind the glaring halogen spot was mute. “I know some people with the World Health Organization. People. . . people Marita trusted. People who wanted the same things she wanted. They’ll know what to do with this.”

Mulder turned back to the screen on the back of the Sigma, proceeding slowly. “It was rough, losing her, wasn’t it? You loved her, didn’t you?”

“Just focus on the mission, Mulder.”

“You may be an assassin, a thief, a liar, but you’re still human. You tried to help her save the world, save all of us.”

“Stop. Just stop.”

“Krycek, there’s nothing wrong with deali—Whoa, shit.”

“Stop, Mulder,” Krycek repeated, more urgently.

“No. I’ve got it,” Mulder breathed, eyes fixed on the slightly fluctuating glow in the viewfinder. “The meteor – I’ve got it. Your buddy might’ve been a little off, though – it’s a lot smaller than I imagined.”

“Mulder,” Krycek barked. “I said stop, damn it.”

Taken aback, Mulder looked up, blinking into the halogen beam. Krycek aimed the light toward his “partner’s” boots. A jagged lip of volcanic stone gaped two inches from Mulder’s toes. Mulder stared over the precipice into the inky darkness that seemed to last forever.

“Oh, yeah, stop,” Mulder nodded.

**

“You know,” Mulder began, “The day they had the Bureau rappelling finals at Quantico, I had just a scorching hangover. . .”

“Just focus, Mulder,” Krycek sighed ten feet below him. “There’s only about 25 feet to go. Remember, your right hand is the brake hand. . .”

“Oops.”

Krycek froze. “What did you say?”

“Oops. This thing. . .”

“What thing? Mulder?”

“The, uh, clippy thing, you know, that the rope goes through. . .”

“The carabiner. What about the carabiner? What the hell did you do, Mulder?”

“Nothing. Nothing really. The rope just seemed a little stuck, and I kind of adjusted – – ”

The rest was drowned out by the ominous sound of polyester Dacron slipping through leather and boots scuffing against rock. Shards and dirt showered into Krycek’s face as he glanced up. They were followed by Mulder. Krycek’s legs flailed as the agent’s bulk propelled them down the side of the crater.

 

“Wuff,” Mulder grunted as they hit the stone floor. Krycek regained his grip in the last 10 feet, slowing their momentum, but the wind was still knocked out of him with the impact.

“Krycek,” the agent moaned after a few moments. Silence. “Jesus, Krycek.”

“Get,” Krycek finally whispered. “The. Fuck. Off of me.”

Mulder rolled off. Krycek cricked his neck and tested his limbs.

“And I always hoped it would be Scully on top,” the mercenary groaned.

Mulder climbed woozily to his feet. “You okay?”

“Nothing broken. Got a warm feeling in my shoulder, though…”

Mulder located the torch and then his pack. The Sigma was intact – the agent turned it on and pointed at the prone Krycek. He smiled. “Meteor at two o’clock.”

Krycek rolled to his feet, his aches and bruises forgotten. “Get the light on it.”

A halogen spot hit a softball-sized chunk of space junk, half-embedded in the stone. Krycek instinctively reached for the meteor, then yelped as his finger made contact. “You’re going to barbecue your good hand, Krycek — it’s still hot,” Mulder warned. “Allow me.” Propping the torch against a rock, he searched his pack, coming out with what looked like a night deposit bag. “Lead-lined,” he informed Krycek. “Didn’t know what kind of alien artifacts I might find in Normal.” Mulder slipped the bag over his hand and began to wiggle the exposed meteor. Finally, it worked free, and Mulder zipped it into the pouch. “Make up for falling on you?” he asked Krycek.

Krycek snatched the bag from Mulder’s fingers. “Not even close. Let’s get a few more pieces and get the fuck out of here. And this time, I’m on top.”

**

Gas-N-Go MiniMart

Mt. Vernon, WA

10:45 pm Pacific Time

Scully looked over at Eric and suppressed the urge to blow the living crap out of the gangly loser. Gaydar indeed. But the scrap of paper in her hand, affectionately signed ‘Love, M.’ had been the straw that broke the camel’s back and buried the poor beast under five hundred feet of hard-packed ice and snow. She closed her eyes as she crumbled the paper in her hand.

“Should we update AD Skinner?” Agent Mason asked fearfully. Scully could only assume that even this rather moronic new agent could smell the brimstone in the air.

“Yes,” she hissed. “And I want a copy of those tapes,” she growled back at Eric.

The poor guy looked like he was about to faint dead away — or get to the offending Mens’ room a little too late.

“Yessir, er, Ma’am, I mean,” he stuttered and hurried to find a blank disk in the battered Office Max special particle board desk. “Mulder used his credit card here,” Scully said, looking through the receipts of the days purchases in Eric’s cash drawer. She pulled out a receipt with her partner’s distinctive scrawl across the bottom.

“Maybe he’s leaving those as clues,” Mason suggested and got a dagger glare for his trouble.

“Agent Scully, a man matching Agent Mulder’s description was spotted about an hour ago at a sporting goods store at the docks in Oak Harbor — it’s just down the road from here,” Agent Grady said, pocketing his cell phone.

“Let’s get over there,” Scully said with a huff. “Any word on that helicopter?”

Grady shook his head. “No word yet. The Washington State Police said they’d call us as soon as possible.”

“As soon as possible,” Scully repeated through gritted teeth. “Why aren’t I surprised,” she muttered. “OK, well, keep on them.” As they ran out to the bucar, she kept running over what they’d learned. Mulder and Krycek were still together. They appeared to be headed to the coast — but for what? It had better not be a three-hour cruise, she cursed mentally.

It was a short ride to Oak Harbor. After reviewing the sporting goods stores surveillance tapes and determining that it was indeed Mulder who had purchased camping supplies and bottled water, the three agents canvassed the local businesses. It was a hit on the first door — a boat rental outfit that had just rented a small fishing boat to Mr. A. Arntzen, matching Krycek’s description to a tee. The old man who owned the rental fleet even commented that he wondered how the man was going to dock the boat with an artificial arm, but Mr. Arntzen had assured him that he had a friend traveling with him that could help when the time came.

“Did Mr. Arntzen say where they might be headed,” Scully asked, trying to keep a handle on her aggravation and worry.

“Oh, I know exactly where they’re headed. Know where they are right now, s’matter of fact,” the old man said with a straggle-tooth smile. “My son-in-law talked me into equipping all my boats with trackers. C’mon over t’here. I can show you rights where they be.”

Scully felt like she had just been handed a gift. The monitor was the most sophisticated object in the old rental store. It showed three blips out on the open water of the harbor.

“That. That right there. That be your men,” the old man said confidently, pointing a blip that was cruising far away from land.

“Where are they headed?” asked Mason. “They aren’t going to the open ocean, are they?”

Scully’s heart dropped but she kept her fears to herself. “No, no. There are plenty of little islands out that direction. Just little speed bumps, we call ’em. This is volcano country, son, even tho most of ’em are dead now — there are still a couple that pop up every time we have a good shake,” the old man assured. “They’re all too little to be any good to anybody, but sometimes you can get a good catch off’n ’em.”

“Somehow I don’t think this is a fishing expedition,” Scully mused aloud. “At least not the kind you’re talking about.” She turned to Mason, who was looking all too eager to please. “Contact the state police and see if they can get us a chopper. We might be able to catch up with them.”

“Don’t think so,” the old man replied before the young agent could answer. “Lookie over here.” An old computer monitor sat on a desk in the back of the room showing weather radar. “Storms coming in. I doubt you’ll get anybody to go out unless you can show that it’s an emergency. Then you’ll have to get the Coast Guard to do it.”

Scully pulled out her cell phone and lifted her eyes to the ceiling, seeking reinforcement. “Sir,” she said. “Do you have any contacts in the Coast Guard?”

Act IV

Unidentified island

2:45 am

The journey back up the crater wall was far more uneventful, though Mulder’s heart was pounding as Krycek hauled him over the lip. Then, as Mulder planted his boots on terra firma, Krycek dropped to his knees, grasping his shoulder. Mulder seized the halogen torch and directed the beam; Krycek’s face was white, covered in sweat.

“Jesus,” Mulder gasped. “What happened?”

“How do you feel?” Krycek croaked, struggling for his footing.

“How are you? Is it cardiac?”

“Mulder, answer me. You OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Tell me. You think it’s a heart attack?”

“It’s not like that,” Krycek snapped. “I feel…disoriented, and there’s a tingling, like an electrical current traveling through my arms and legs.” He pushed to his feet, wobbled, and landed flat on his ass.

Mulder peered back down into the crater. “It’s the meteor, Krycek – some kind of radiation or electromagnetic force.” He yanked the leaded bag from his pack. “I’m getting rid of this shit. We have to get out of here. Now.” Mulder hefted the parcel.

“No!” Krycek shouted even as the pain contorted his face. “You’re OK. It’s just ’cause I touched it. You’re OK; you’re safe. The rock’s secure. You’ve read the reports – you know what you have. It’s what we’ve fought for. What Marita died for. You did this for Scully, admit it. That’s the real reason you came to this godforsaken place, isn’t it?”

Mulder stared at Krycek, then at the bag and all the possibilities it represented. He looked to the star-littered sky, then stuffed the bag back into his pack. “OK,” he sighed. “Looks like I’m going to get that exercise Scully’s been ragging me to do. You ain’t heavy, bro, or at least I hope not.”

“That won’t be…Oh, fuck.” Krycek dropped back to the stone floor. It took Mulder nearly five minutes to wrestle Krycek into a fireman’s carry. He staggered away from the crater, his one-time sworn nemesis over his shoulders. “Mulder,” Krycek said gently as they retreated.

“Yeah.”

“You tell anybody about this, I will track you to the ends of this planet and feed you your own spleen.”

“Shucks. A Red Lobster gift card would be just fine.”

**

“What do you think this thing is, anyway?” Krycek groaned. He’d vomited a half-mile back, and the tingling in his shoulder was growing worse.

“I don’t know,” Mulder puffed, readjusting his parcel’s weight. “The electromagnetic spectrum is divided into electrical energy, radio waves, microwaves, infrared light, visible light, ultraviolet, X-rays, and gamma rays. That’s what we know about. Theoretically, there are other forces to either end of the spectrum that we can’t see, that may not operate under our physical laws. Maybe this meteor’s imbued with one of those forces. Maybe that force causes a realignment of molecules, matter, restoring order to chaos. Cancer, AIDS, tissue damage – it’s all physical chaos, matter out of order. Perhaps, like Scott Bakula, this meteor was sent to put right what once was wrong.”

Krycek hacked and muttered something.

“What?” Mulder prompted.

“I said, sorry I fucking asked.”

As Mulder’s back screamed and his knees threatened to lock, he hauled Krycek over a rise and stared out over the tranquil inlet.

“We’re hooooome,” the agent announced. Then the earth and Mulder parted ways. As the island heaved, the agent toppled, feeling his ankle twist and something pop inside his leg. Krycek rolled a dozen feet. “Earthquake,” Mulder whispered as the pain overtook him and a second wave hit.

**

The chopper landed with a thump of the tires, but the shaking continued long after the blades had slowed to a gentle whirl. The second round of shaking threatened to knock Scully off her perch on the bench in the back.

“I better get this bird back up in the air before we’re in the drink,” shouted the pilot, who fired up the engine again.

“No! Wait! I’m getting out here.”

“Look, Agent, um, whatever — you can’t get out here! We’re in the middle of an earthquake!” the Coast Guard officer sitting next to Scully said, grabbing her sleeve as the chopper rose in the air.

“My partner is down there! We _have_ to find him,” Scully screamed over the roar the rotors. “Land this thing now!”

“The shakin’ will be over in a just a few minutes,” the officer said calmly. “Besides, there’s no telling what damage this quake is doing around here. It would be better to look for them from the air.”

“But it’s still dark, we’ll miss them,” Scully yelled in return.

“They’ll hear us. If they need rescue, surely they thought to bring some flares.”

Scully’s eyes flew wide and she dug through her pocket. As luck would have it, she’d requested a copy of the charge slip Mulder had signed at the sporting goods store.

She pulled out her flashlight and scanned the items. Her chin dropped to her chest as the dread hit her right in the stomach. “No. They didn’t think to buy flares,” she said loudly.

It was all too much. The frantic cross country search, the storm, the earthquake. It seemed every force of nature was conspiring against her to keep her away from her partner.

“Ma’am, you got a call on the radio,” the co-pilot said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Says it’s urgent.”

“A call?” She accepted the co-pilot’s headphones and put them on her ears. “This is Agent Scully, how can I help you?”

“It’s us helping you, Dana,” came the quick reply.

“Byers? Is that you?” she asked. “I couldn’t get you guys. I left a message hours ago.”

“Sorry. We were on the roof checking out 17P/Holmes. Langly thinks it’s actually a spaceship. You’re message said Mulder was missing?”

“Yeah, he is. I’m in Washington State. Look, remember the watch I gave Mulder a few weeks ago for his birthday?” she asked.

“The one with the global positioning chip in it?” Byers replied. “Sure. We have coordinates as of an hour ago and then everything got wiggy.”

“It’s the transmission here, I’m sure,” Scully answered. “We just had an earthquake.”

“Electromagnetic fields, no doubt. But here, Scully, at least this can get you closer.”

He rattled off the coordinates as she scribbled them on the back of the sporting goods store receipt.”

“Byers, I take back every thing I was thinking when I got your answering machine earlier.”

“We aim to please.”

“Tell the others I really appreciate this — and the suggestion for the watch. Where are they, anyway?”

“Still up on the roof. There were a couple of girls who live across the alley on their roof and last I saw Langly was trying to rig up a gangplank. I’m here in case we need to call 9-1-1.”

“Good thought. Well, tell them thanks and thank you for calling.”

“Just find him, Scully. Hope he’s in better shape than when we fished him out of the ocean or when we got him out of Egypt.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Over and out.” She handed the radio headset back to the co- pilot and the coordinates to the pilot. “He was at this location an hour ago.”

“Gives us a place to start,” the pilot said with a nod.

They were just up in the air and circling toward the coordinates when Scully saw shadows moving in the beam of the choppers lights. “Wait, turn around! Back there — that rise! Shine the light over there!” she shouted to the pilot. The light caressed the rocks for a moment before falling on two figures, crumpled on the ground. One of the figures raised his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light of the chopper before dropping his arm and falling forward face first on the rocks.

“Get the gurneys ready,” Scully said tersely the officer with her. “Looks like our next stop is the nearest trauma center.”

 

Oak Harbor Medical Center

Nov. 14, 2007

8:15 am Pacific Time

Scully had paced the same patch of flooring so many times she almost expected to find a groove in the tiles. Her bottom lip was raw from where she’d been biting it.

Once more she glanced up at the double doors leading to the trauma area, fully expecting nothing but the steel gray barrier between herself and her partner. But this time, luck was with her.

 

“Ms. Scully?” The man standing in the open doors looked like he’d been on his feet at least as long as Scully, but he smiled at her anyway. “I’m Greg Moser, the resident assigned to your partner’s case.” The freckled young man with the bright shock of red hair couldn’t have been a day over 24. Scully drew in a breath and reached out to accept his offered handshake.

“It’s Agent Scully, or Dr. Scully,” she amended. Might as well establish the alpha female position as soon as possible, she mused silently.

“Oh, uh, sorry. OK, well, you’re here with Mr. Krycek . . .”

“Actually, I’m with Mr. Mulder. Mr. Krycek is . . . well I don’t think there is any one here for him,” Scully corrected. She knew full well how bitchy she sounded, but after the hell she’d been put through in the last 24 hours, she wasn’t going to give that rat bastard a heartbeat of compassion.

“Oh, OK, I see. So, uh, Mr. Mulder,” Moser said, flipping to the other chart in his hand. “Yes, here we have it. Um, we x-rayed his ankle — good news on that. It’s sprained, not broken. It’s pretty badly sprained and I’m prescribing crutches for the next two weeks. I know that’s longer than usual, but I think he’s going to need them. And I have a script for painkillers. But for today, I’d like to keep him under observation.”

“Observation? For a sprained ankle?” she objected.

“To be perfectly honest, the poor guy is just exhausted. We thought he was unconscious when he was brought in, but he responds to painful stimuli. He’s just beat. I figured a day to sleep it off might help. We can admit him now, release him at 7 am tomorrow and still come in under the 24-hour rule. Shouldn’t be a problem with your insurance. Then you two can fly home tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Scully sighed. It made sense, even if she really didn’t want to spend another minute in the Pacific Northwest. “I guess that will be fine,” she said wearily. “May I see my partner?”

“They’re wheeling him up to his room. He’ll be there in about ten minutes. He’s in 213, just off the elevators. Why don’t you give them a minute to get him settled in – – maybe grab a cup of coffee or some breakfast? Cafeteria’s just down the hall there.”

She nodded dully. Coffee — it sounded like heaven. Breakfast? When was the last time food passed her lips? She’d been hoping for wine and cheese last night — Shaking her head she started down the hallway. Before she got more than a few steps, her overactive guilt complex got the better of her.

“Dr. Moser? How is Mr. Krycek?” she asked timidly.

Moser smiled. “He’ll be right as rain. We were afraid we were dealing with radiation poisoning, but that didn’t pan out. Just a little virus, from what I could tell in his blood work. He’ll be up and running in no time.”

“Great,” she said flatly and turned to find that mythical cup of coffee.

Epilogue

Dulles International Airport

Nov. 16, 2007

11:21 am ET

Mulder adjusted the crutches under his arms and tried to catch up with his partner. Scully was gracefully doing a slalom of construction barricades that eternally littered the concourse, but he was certain her haste had more to do with her desire to get as much distance between them as possible.

He’d screwed the pooch and she was making sure he knew it.

When Mulder had come to at the hospital in Oak Harbor, Scully had been at his bedside, like always. She’d kissed him, tears still drying on her cheeks. She told him how much she loved him. And then, as only a true natural red head possibly could, she let him have it with both barrels. Somewhere in her nearly hour-long tirade, she managed to slip in that her recent medical test showed she was still very much in remission. After that, he sort of zoned out on her and didn’t listen that closely. It didn’t slow her down and only seemed to make her all the more zealous in her attack on his stupidity, as she called it. When the dust settled, she stopped talking to him all together, except when in the presence of his doctor or when telling him what flight number they were on and the gate they were using. It had been a long flight home.

His ankle was killing him. He was still peeved that Krycek had mysteriously disappeared from the hospital, but he’d expected that. At least Mulder was still in possession of the rock, tucked safely in the lead lined evidence bag in his backpack. He dutifully followed her out of the airport and into the short-term lot. She shot him a glare that froze his heart when she was charged the hourly rate for what had amounted to four days of parking. He mentally noted that he would have to start doing all the laundry unless he wanted to find she’d starched his boxers and shrank his socks.

As they headed in to the city, she took an exit he wasn’t expecting. “Aren’t we going home?” he ventured meekly.

“We’re putting this whole nasty business to rest — once and for all,” she informed him with a growl. After that he kept his own counsel until he saw they were entering the Hoover’s parking garage.

He quickly hobbled after her as she skirted agents and elevators and made her way to the Bureau labs. In minutes, she’d secured the pouch in an air-tight containment box and using the special gloves, she opened it. Slowly, she poured the contents into a waiting clear glass dish. Instead of the rock Mulder knew he’d place in the pouch, only copious amounts of sludge plopped out onto the dish. After watching Scully make more slides than he thought imaginable, he crawled over to a lab stool and waited. The thud of a shelf of papers hitting the counter woke him from a doze.

“Volcanic ash and sea salt,” she said grimly.

“What?” he asked, wiping sleep from his eyes. Damn those painkillers, he was tired all the time when he took them. “What are you saying, Scully?”

“I’m saying that your ‘Mars Rock’ is nothing more than very earthly volcanic ash and sea salt. Would make wonderful exfoliate for your feet, but it definitely isn’t going to cure anyone of cancer,” she said evenly.

He flipped through the pages, but couldn’t make heads nor tails of what he was seeing. “Scully — volcanic ash and sea salt wouldn’t make someone sick. You saw Krycek — you said his doctor thought he had been exposed to some kind of radiation.”

“But that isn’t what they found, Mulder. It was a virus. Now if you want to speculate on the origin of that virus — ”

“Scully, the rock he landed on was at the bottom of a crater,” Mulder objected. He picked up his crutches and painfully made his way over to the glass cube holding his find. “This isn’t the same stuff I put in there, Scully. He switched it. Somehow he must have switched pouches with me.”

Scully sighed and put her hand on his shoulder, turning him toward her. “Mulder, stop it. You were duped. Let it go.”

“Scully, he took it — ”

“Mulder, we don’t need it,” she said plainly. “I’m fine and it’s been ten years. Whatever cured me, whether it was the chip or a miracle or maybe even just your belief in me — it’s working. Stop looking for a cure, Mulder. I have my cure, right here.” She pulled him to her and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “C’mon. Let’s get you home so you can rest that ankle.”

“Will you lie down with me in our nice warm bed?” he whispered in her ear. For the first time in days she smiled at him. “Sure, Mulder. You know I always like the view from the top.”

Cascades Motor Lodge

30 miles outside Cheney, WA

The shower cut off and in just a few minutes, the door opened allowing steam to puff into the small bedroom. Alex Krycek emerged, toweling his hair roughly — with his newly growing left arm. Flexing the fingers of his left hand for the first time in eleven years he smiled. “Thanks, Mulder. I owe you one.”

the end.

 

1

Impact by Vickie Moseley & Martin Ross