
Helena, Montana

11th December

7:48 a.m. (Mountain time)

Scully shoulders her way into a hotel room, cell phone
perched precariously on her shoulder.  She juggles carry-
on, laptop and briefcase in one hand, in the other she
clutches a thick sheaf of papers.

"Yeah, I've found out about Teresa already," she says into
the phone.

Back in DC, Byers looks up as Frohike and Langly move
closer to the phone.  They urge their friend to put her on
speaker phone, which he does.

"Where are you, Agent Scully?"  Byers asks.

"I'm in Montana,"  Scully says.  "Teresa Hoese turned up
last night.  Hers was one of the names I had police
departments and hospitals flag.  A nurse from Deaconess
Medical Center called me late yesterday.  I caught a red-
eye out here."

"What are you going to do?" Frohike pitches in.
"Well, I'm dropping my bags here at the hotel, them I'm
going to the hospital.  Hopefully I'll be able to see Teresa."


Langly looks at his friends, wondering if he should ask
what he knows they all want to.  "Do you want us out
there?"

They hear Scullys sigh over the phone.  "I'd appreciate
that, but I might need you guys to do something for me
there.  Just stay put.  I'll be in touch."

The Lone Gunmen look at each other as they hear the
phone line disconnect.

"Let's see what else we can find," Frohike says, as he
moves toward his computer.

In the hotel room, Scully lowers herself to a chair, dreading
the next call she must make.

Reluctantly, she dials the number and awaits an answer.

"Kimberley, this is Agent Scully.  I need to speak with the
Assistant Director."

A moment later, Skinner's voice comes on the line.

"Agent Scully, are you aware that we have a meeting with
Deputy Director Kersh in ten minutes?"  He demands.
"Where are you?"

"Helena, Montana.  I received a phone call last night.
Teresa Hoese is back.  She was admitted to Deaconess
Medical Center.  I'm on my way there."

Skinner's voice betrays his shock.  "The young mother who
was abducted just before Agent Mulder?"

"Yes."  Scully closes her eyes, her next words barely above
a whisper.  "Hanging on to life by a thread."

"Do you know the specifics of her condition?"

"The nurse I spoke with was kind enough to fax me a copy
of her preliminary chart."  Scully swallows, trying to
maintain her composure.  "Sir, she was tortured."

A sigh is heard from Skinner.  Then, "Have you spoken
with Agent Doggett?

"No."

"I'll be out there as soon as I can,"  Skinner tells her, leaving
no room for argument.

Scully nods.  "Thank you.  About Kersh"

"I'll handle it.  You find out what you can about Teresa
Hoese."  He pauses.  "This is. . .

"I know," Scully interrupts.   "I'll see you soon."   She
disconnects the phone and exhales deeply.  She's hoped
for something like this for so long.  She only prays that it's
what she has been waiting for.


Washington DC

FBI Headquarters

11th December

9:59 a.m. (Eastern time)

Skinner enters Kersh's office and sees Doggett is already
seated.

"Thank you for joining us Assistant Director," Kersh greets
him, in a tone that is anything but welcoming.  Skinner
seats himself as his superior folds his hands on the desk
and assumes an inquisitive tone.

"A.D. Skinner, would you be able to explain to me why
Agent Scully wasn't able to make this meeting?"

Skinner hesitates, then answers.  "Agent Scully is following
up on an ongoing case.  New information came to light last
night.  She felt it necessary to follow up in person."

"In Helena, Montana?" Kersh sneers.  "What exactly is this
new information?"

Skinner's face shows his surprise, then anger.

"What exactly is this new information?"  Kersh continues.

"Teresa Hoese, a woman who. . . disappeared shortly
before Agent Mulder, was admitted to a Helena hospital
last night."

Doggett looks at Skinner sharply.  It's obvious he had no
idea of this latest break in his investigation.

"I see."   Kersh responds.   "I want Agent Scully informed
that she must follow Bureau procedures and protocol in
order to continue investigation on a pending case.  Failure
to do so will result in her immediate suspension.  And, I
want her back in DC to answer to me about this lack of
adherence to policy.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Skinner replies.  Doggett just nods.  They take
their leave, and are almost to the door when Kershs voice
reaches them again.

"Deliver that message personally, Assistant Director.  And
John?"

Doggett turns back.  "Yes, sir?"

"Make sure he does."

Doggett just nods again.

The two men walk down the hallway, headed for the
elevator.

As soon as they are out of earshot of the Deputy Director,
Doggett challenges his superior.  "When did you speak
with Agent Scully?"  Doggett asks.

Skinner stops and turns to face him in front of the elevator.
"About five minutes before I walked in there."

"Agent Scully and I talked about this--- taking off without
telling me.  I thought we had come to an understanding
where searching for Agent Mulder is concerned."

Skinner gives a grunt of annoyance, looking away.

"Look," Doggett says with a hint of appeal in his tone.  "I
like Agent Scully.  I admire her.  She's a good agent.  I want
to help her, and I know that's all you want too.  But I can't
do it like this.  Not if she locks me out."

Skinner gives a displeased nod, and after a moment the
elevator arrives. The two men step inside.



Deaconess Medical Center

6:23 p.m.

Scully's head jerks up from where she's been nodding off
as she sits in the waiting room of the hospital.  She looks
around the nearly empty lounge, blinking blearily until
her eyes settle on what has disturbed her rest.  Someone
has entered the waiting room, a young man in his late
teens or early twenties.  He stands across the room staring
at her as though he can't quite place her.  She, however,
recalls him.

"Richie?" she asks groggily.

"Do I - do I know you?" he replies, squinting at her.

"I'm Agent Scully, with the FBI," she  reminds him.  "We
met in Oregon at the time Mul- Mrs. Hoese disappeared.
Your friend was abducted too, if I recall."

"Yeah," he mumbles.  "I  uh, Ive heard rumours they
found someone  I had hoped . ." his voice trails off.

Scullys expression softens slightly, empathizing with the
young mans pain.  "Teresa Hoese was found," she tells
him.

His face goes suddenly ashen and he sits down heavily
beside her, confusion apparent in his face.

"Why are you here?" Scully asks gently.

"I just flew in," he tells her.  "Word was on a MUFON
message board that there'd been some sightings out here,
and I thought maybe I might be able to get some proof,
make people believe me about Gary. . .   Then someone
told me a woman had been taken into hospital."

"Well, it is Teresa Hoese.  She's unconscious.  We don't
know yet the full extent of what's been done to her, but
whatever it was, it's nearly killed her."

The boy gives an audible gasp.

"The doctors aren't sure she'll pull through.  There hasn't
been any word that they've found your friend," she adds
sympathetically.  Her expression is soft and sad; she
knows Richie Szalay's anguish all too well.

"I'd almost given up hope any of them would be returned,"
Richie murmurs.

"Have you been looking?" Scully asks, curiosity seeping
through her exhaustion.

The young man lifts his head, worry replaced by
enthusiasm.  "Yeah.  I think I got close once, a few months
ago.  I was, like, on this dirt road following this UFO doing
like, eighty miles an hour, and I'm like, 'This is not
happening!  This is NOT happening!' and then BAM! There
was this huge flash of light, brighter than day, and I'm like,
blinded, you know?  My car dies and I'm out in the middle
of nowhere and the UFO?  Pfffft!  It's outta there.  I had to
walk 20 miles to the nearest farm in the middle of the
night.  That was back in October, and I haven't been this
close since then.  It's like all the UFO's just stopped comin'
around, you know?"

Scully smiles wanly, unable to be as enthusiastic or
animated as Richie now appears.  Her expression falls,
however, as the doors open and Skinner enters, his face
serious.  An equally grim Agent Doggett follows.

She rises from her chair, and Richie, sensing something
dire in the presence of these two men, looks back and forth
between her and them.  Mumbling excuses, he leaves the
room.

Scully stands.  Her demeanor is an awkward combination
of embarrassment and defiance.  She knows she should not
have ventured out to Montana without consulting either of
them, but she's prepared to go on the offensive if either of
them attempts to chastise her for it.  She sags in relief when
Skinner chooses another tack.

"How are you?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

Reluctantly, Doggett speaks up.  "Agent Scully . . . I have
to warn you that Deputy Director Kersh was talking of the
possibility of suspension due to failure to follow proper
procedure."  He says this almost gently.

Scully meets his gaze, eyebrow lifted.

"And he wants you back in DC," he continues.

"I see."  She knows that Doggett knows she wont leave.
"Not until Ive had a chance to speak to Teresa," she says.

"Has she regained consciousness?" Skinner asks.

"No, not yet," Scully answers, with a sigh.  "We don't know
what's wrong with her.  She came around this morning for
a little while  long enough to ask for her baby  but
that's it.  If she were any further out of it, she'd be
comatose."

Skinner moves to sit down, urging Scully to join him.  "I
think I can plead leniency for you, since you're out here
investigating an open case, which means the lack of
paperwork isn't an issue.  There's a standing 302 already.
But Scully, you're on very thin ice and you know as well as
I do that Kersh would just as soon you drown.  And
frankly, the fact that the disappearance of Teresa Hoese is
an open case isn't going to carry a lot of weight.  He knows
the real reason you flew out here."

Scully looks at him pointedly.  Her eyes flash over to
Doggett standing across from her and Skinner.  Standing
with his arms crossed, he looks guarded and disapproving
and somewhat hurt.  She wont apologize though.  Theres
no time for it.

"I'll fax him my resignation if he wants it.  But I'm not
leaving here until I've spoken to her.  I can't." she says
flatly.

"But"   Skinner starts to protest, but Doggett cuts him off.

He moves to stand in front of Scully.

"Sir, may I have a moment with Agent Scully?",  he asks
diplomatically.  Skinner appears about to refuse, then
gives a stiff nod.  He rises and moves to the other side of
the waiting room as Doggett sits next to Scully.

"Agent Scully-- what if, even if you do get to talk to that
woman in there, she can't help you find Mulder?  Then
what?  You tender your resignation, Deputy Director
Kersh will be only too happy to accept it.  Then what will
you do the next time you've got a lead on Mulder and you
need the Bureau resources to follow up on it?"

"So what do you think I should do, Agent Doggett?" she
asks defensively. "Go meekly back to Washington and
miss whatever chance I might have to get the information I
need from this woman?"

"No.  I'm suggesting you go back to Washington to try and
prevent this thing with Kersh from getting any worse 
and let me try to get the information we need from this
woman."

Scully looks shocked, them offers him a small smile.  "I'm
sorry, Agent Doggett.  You surprised me there for a
moment.  I, uh . . . I appreciate the offer, I do.  But you and
I had an agreement, remember?  You'd look for the clues in
this world and I'd take everything else.  You're not a
believer, and that's fine.  I never was before, either.  But
anyone other than a believer might not know what to look
for in what this woman has to say.  Whatever she's going to
tell us, I can assure you, is not of this world."

He nods, sighing thoughtfully.  "Then I'll get help," he
answers with resolve.



Two hours later

Skinner is counting ceiling tiles when a man in a lab coat
enters the waiting room.  The man moves purposely
towards Scully; Skinner nudges her, and she looks up from
the magazine she was perusing.

"Agent Scully?" the man inquires.

"Doctor Desai."  She smiles slightly as she stands. "This is
Assistant Director Skinner and ...." She looks around and
finds Doggett across the room, talking quietly on his cell
phone.  She indicates him with a nod.  "... and Special
Agent Doggett."  She turns to Skinner. "Doctor Desai is
treating Teresa."

Skinner asks the question on both of their minds.  "How is
she?"

The doctor sighs.  "In twelve years, I have never seen
anything near this level of mistreatment."  It is obvious to
the agents that Teresa's condition has angered the man
before him.

Scully interjects, "Doctor, its important we see the victim
as soon as possible, or well never know who did this to
her."  Its an obvious ploy, but it works.  The doctor
hesitates only a moment before leading them out of the
waiting room and down the corridor.

It appears as if Dr. Desai is going to refuse their seeing
Teresa, but he doesn't.  "This young woman shouldn't be
alive."  He turns and leads the three of them out of the
waiting room and down the corridor.

Skinner walks beside him.  Halfway down in the hall
Doggett joins them.  Skinner looks over his shoulder and
notices Scully hanging back, seeming reluctant to do the
one thing she must  face Teresa Hoese.

Entering the room, Skinner waits for Scully.  She moves
slowly, coming to stand next to her superior.  It appears to
Skinner that she must force herself to look at the woman
lying on the bed.  As soon as she does, her eyes slam shut.
Skinner discreetly places a hand on her back, meaning to
steady and comfort her.  He turns his attention to the
doctor, who is speaking.

"asked for her baby this morning.  I suspect that's the
only thought keeping her alive."   The doctor pauses, then
adds,  "It almost seems as if someone was experimenting
on her."

Skinner lifts his head sharply, tearing his gaze from the
woman in question.  "What exactly was done to her?"

"There's tissue damage inside her cheeks in a linear
pattern.  Her chest was cut into and organ tissue in her
abdomen was scooped away.  In the x-rays I see damage to
the soft palate."

Skinner feels Scully stiffen beside him.  "In the x-rays, did
you see, um. . . anything else?  Foreign objects?"   Scully
asks, carefully looking at no one in the room.

"I'm not sure what you mean."   The doctor sounds
confused.

Scully lifts her gaze to the doctor.   "Little pieces of metal?
Implants?"

"No, I didn't."

A voice interrupts them and the four standing around
Teresa Hoese turn to see Richie standing in the doorway,
looking with horrified fascination at the woman on the
hospital bed.  "Will she be all right?" he asks again, his
voice trembling.

"We don't know," the doctor responds.

"Who's this?" Doggett demands suspiciously, recognizing
the young man who had left the waiting room earlier.

Scully moves from Skinner's side to stand next to Richie.
"This is Richie Szalay.  He's from Mrs. Hoese's hometown.
He was there when she disappeared last year."

"So what's he doing here?" Doggett questions.

Richie hesitates, looking to Scully for support, which she
offers with a slight nod.  "I heard there were sightings out
here," he answers.  "I came to check it out."

Doggett stares intently at the young man.  "Isn't it awfully
convenient that someone from this woman's home town
shows up around the same time she does?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie asks defensively.

"Do you know what a moulage casting is, Richie?"

He shakes his head.

Doggett steps closer to the young man  as a means of
intimidation, Skinner recognizes.  "It's what the cops take
when they find shoe prints.  They do these plaster castings
and the ones they got from the field yesterday were from
size nine and a half Nikes.  I got a chance to review the
Lewis and Clark County Sheriff's Office report on the drive
over here.  You ever hear of an alien in Nikes?"  He looks
pointedly at Richie's shoes.

Richie swallows; Doggett's tactics seem to have worked on
the boy.  "Doesn't mean it wasn't."

"Did it ever occur to you that it wasn't an alien, but a
man?"

"Agent Doggett!" Scully snaps.  "You have no basis for any
accusation.  He's out here looking for someone he lost 
just like we are."  Scully looks to Skinner, then back at
Doggett, her face becoming hard and cold.  "I'd like to
speak to you alone, Agent Doggett."

Scully leads Doggett into the hallway outside Teresa's
room.  She hears the door shut behind them.  She whirls
around on him, eyes blazing with fury.  "Just what the hell
do you think you're doing, Agent Doggett?  Accusing that
boy of Mrs. Hoese's disappearance?  Of that of his friend?
Just like Kersh wanted to accuse Skinner and me of
Mulder's?  Is that what you're trying to do?  I gave you
more credit than that."

Doggett doesn't back down.  "I said I'd look for answers
within this world, Agent Scully, remember?  That means
pressing a witness to get the truth when I have to," he
states emphatically.

"And with this attitude, I'm supposed to trust you to get
answers from Teresa Hoese?  You want to hook her up to a
polygraph, right there beside her EKG?"

"It's not worth arguing about.  The point here is to find
Mulder."

Scully sighs.  "And for months, that's what we've been
trying to do.  That's what I've been chasing after.  I'm not
about to let you ruin the best chance we've had so far just
because you can't open your eyes to the truth.  Because
what we've got here is as close to the truth as we're ever
going to get."

"What we've got is hope.  But lets be honest, Agent Scully,
about what no one wants to say."  His voice gentles, his
words hesitant.

Scully looks puzzled, her head tilted curiously as her
partner continues.

"Bad as you want to find Mulder, you're afraid to find him,
too," he says softly.

Scully shakes her head in denial, her eyes growing glassy
with tears she'll be damned before she sheds in front of
this man.  "No  "

"You think I haven't been there?  I've been there, Agent
Scully.  I can tell you every thought going through your
mind right now.  This is the final inning, the moment of
truth.  Looking for otherworldly answers gives you
something to hold on to, some hope that there's a chance.
You don't want to confront the possibility that if what
happened to Mulder was orchestrated by human hands,
it's almost certainly final."

"You're wrong Agent Doggett." she snaps, her voice rough
with emotion.  "You couldn't be more wrong."

She turns from him and stalks down the corridor, her
shoulders hunched as if from physical pain, her arms
crossed over her chest.  Presently, she hears the door of the
hospital room open, and when she finally turns to look
back, Doggett is gone.  She blinks, and a tear slides from
her eye, down the side of her face.


Briar Dene Hotel

12th December

12.34 am



The Briar Dene hotel is made up of two wings.   Scully
winds up on the opposite wing from the two men, and has
to cross the courtyard if she wants to visit them.  Shortly
after midnight she finds herself making her way through
the darkness, half- embarrassed, to Skinners room.  She
gives a hesitant knock on the door, which is immediately
answered - obviously he has not been sleeping too well
either, even though he is wearing pajamas.

A look of surprise crosses his face as he regards her, his
eyes full of an unanswered question.  It is left to Scully to
break the silence.  She is almost apologetic.

"Im sorry.  I had a bad dream.."

Skinners face looks tortured.  "Hang on a moment, let me
put some clothes on."

When Skinner emerges, he is wearing a shirt and trousers.
Scully turns her gaze from the sky, which she has been
regarding with a rare intensity.  "I had a talk with Mulder
once, about starlight," she whispers, as if betraying an
important secret.  "About how its billions of years old.  It
wont die, that light.  Perhaps its the only thing that never
does.  He said its where souls reside."

Her voice breaks even more as she searches his eyes for
some kind of answer that she knows he cant give.  "I hope
hes right."

Skinners face is contorted with guilt  he had let Scully
down, had let Mulder down.  Had lost him, failed to
protect him.  Deep inside of him, he cant admit that
Mulder wont be coming back, for that is the only way to
eradicate his guilt.

"If youre trying to prepare yourself, I want you to stop."
he says huskily.  "Look, nothing says that Mulder wont
just come walking out of the fields.  Nothing says he wont
be fine."

At those words, Scully falters, two tears slipping from her
eyes.  She ducks her head to keep Skinner from seeing
them, dashing them away with her fingertips.

"What if   what if Agent Doggett is right?  What if I'm
only looking to the stars for the answers because I can't
accept the truth?"

"It's not a matter of accepting the truth," Skinner says
softly, intently taking her by the shoulders.

"I saw what I saw.  We know where Mulder is.  We know
the truth.  He's out there and he'll be back."

Her mouth tightens and her voice grows hoarse as her
composure begins to crack.  "Maybe that's what I'm afraid
of," she chokes out.  "When I left Washington last night
after I got that phone call, I didn't pause.  I didn't hesitate, I
didn't think about it.  I just got on the first plane I could
find and left.  But I didn't want to do it.  Somehow,
somewhere I was dreading coming out here.  Dreading
what I might find here."

Skinner cant answer, and he senses she's not finished.  He
waits silently for her to continue, and after a moment, she
does, her voice steadier.

"Years ago, on the John Lee Roche case, one of the parents
whose little girl's body we found told us that he'd always
thought that missing was worse than dead.  That it's the
not knowing that tears you apart.  And sometimes I think
maybe he's right.  I wonder how Mulder could possibly
have lived like this for so many years.  But then I wonder
    Her voice catches, breaking.     what I would ever do
if I found him and. . .

Her face crumples.  Her breath hitches in a sob, and she
closes her eyes in despair.  Skinner pats her shoulder
helplessly for a moment, then she feels his arm close
around her, and he pulls her to his chest and lets her cry.



Deaconess Medical Center

1:45a.m.



Doctor Desai enters the intensive care ward.  The nurse
looks up in surprise - she didn't expect him to be there.
"May I help you, doctor?" she asks.
As he speaks his expression is strangely unsure, his tone
hesitant, far from the doctors usual casual arrogance.
"Yes, I want to have a patient transferred. Teresa Hoese."


"To be transferred?"  The situation goes from strange to
very odd indeed.  Transferring a patient in the middle of
the night is definitely not standard procedure.  But the
nurse can make no objection.

"To another facility. I'd like to get her ready as soon as we
can," he says simply.

"Okay."



Briar Dene Hotel

4:52 a.m.



Scully awakens fully dressed lying across the hotel bed,
having finally gotten some sleep.  She brings the ringing
telephone to her ear.

"Yeah?  Hold on. . . Who took her?  Well, has anybody
talked to the doctor and asked him why?  Or where?  Well,
where's Agent Doggett now?"   Scullys face shows her
confusion.

Teresa has disappeared.



Holten Dam Recreation Area

12th  December

6:29am



Skinner and Scully arrive at a run-down diner near to the
airport.  Scully gets out of the car as they stop and
approaches Doggett, who is waiting for them.
"Did you find her?" Scully asks, referring to Teresa.


"No," Doggett answers.

"No?  I don't understand.  Why did you ask us to come
here." Scullys face shows her perplexion.  This is a waste
of time.

"To get another point of view."

"Another point of view?  We have a patient missing  a
witness missing, Agent Doggett."  Scully's irritation at the
seemingly needless delay is evident.

"Remember that help I said I would get?  This is who I was
talking about.  Her name is Monica Reyes.  She helped out
on a case once.  My son's kidnapping and murder."  He
shares this very matter-of-factly, hesitating only for a brief
moment.  It's all Scully needs.  Her defensiveness fades,
and she draws a deep breath to focus herself again.

"I trust her, and she's a little more  open  to what you
call extreme possibilities than I am."  This in a self-
deprecating tone.

He indicates the woman coming through the open doors
towards them.  She is a brunette, taller than Scully.

"She's FBI?"  Skinner asks, eyeing the approaching agent.

"Yeah.  She's got some expertise I thought we might take
advantage of."

Scully looks at Doggett quizzically.  "Expertise in what?"

"She's got her master's in religious studies.  Her specialty
is ritualistic crime."

"Ritualistic crime?  Are we working the same case here?"
Scully asks.

Doggett is embarrassed but determined.  "You gotta take
what you can get, Agent Scully.  You wanted a believer."
They move to join Agent Reyes, Doggett smiling slightly
as he introduces her to the others.  "Agent Reyes."

She tosses a cigarette butt to the ground and smiles
openly, obviously nervous.

"Assistant Director Skinner, Agent Scully, this is Monica
Reyes." Doggett continues.

Reyes flashes a smile at the two of them.  "Hi."

Skinner and Scully make no move.  They stand there
staring silently at her.  Their lack of reaction does nothing
to ease Agent Reyes' nervousness.  She moves to the butt
she has just discarded and stomps on it.  She knows it is
already out, but needs something to do to break the
tension that is now tangible.  She turns to Scully and
Skinner, her arms crossed over her chest. "I know, it's not
very FBI of me, but I'm really trying to quit," she stammers.

Skinner and Scully nod.

"So, Agent Doggett's been taking me through the case.
Interesting."

Scully quirks her eyebrow and says, "Interesting?"

"Well, I've always been fascinated by abduction or alleged
abduction cases.  Often, they're confused with satanic
ritual abuse and vice versa, so I get called in a lot.  People
tend to want to find an earthly explanation for such
things."

"Where have I heard that before?" Scully mutters under her
breath.  Doggett grimaces.

Reyes continues.  "Often, what we think happened and
what actually happened aren't always the same thing.
What happened being different from what we want to have
happened."

Scully interrupts.  "Excuse me, are you saying you think
that our operational theory is mistaken?  That what we
believe happened isn't what happened to them?"

"Well, at this point, I couldn't presume to form a theory,
not having seen or interviewed the victims.  But I'm given
to understand that there were no physical markings or
injuries that would account for her present condition.  In
cases of ritual abuse, that's usually not the case.  It's
possible that whatever cult got hold of her used some form
of drug or poison on her."

"Her tox screen was clean."

Reyes considers this for a moment.  "Maybe she was given
something that wouldn't show up in your normal battery
of tests.  Or perhaps her near-comatose state is trauma
induced, more psychosomatic than physical, but again, I
can't say."

Scully sighs deeply, rubbing her temples, nearing the end
of her patience.  "So what can you say?"

"We don't know that the woman who was found out here
didn't inflict her own injuries, willingly ingest or inject
whatever has her in her present state.  She was dropped
here by someone and whoever it was cared enough not to
kill her.  That could be an indicator that it was cult-related,
as could be the fact that someone came back for her."

"Agent Reyes, we're dealing with abductions here, and not
by any cult,  Skinner says.  "I witnessed it.  I know what I
saw."

"Yes, sir," she replies.   "I just want to make sure that we
understand all the factors here and what they could mean
for the investigation.  If there's a more plausible
explanation than abduction, the local authorities, the
victim's next of kin . . .  everyone will want to seize on that.
But eliminating those explanations as a possibility, we can
cut through all that.  Which means we have to explore
them first."

Scully shakes her head impatiently.  "Agent Reyes, cut to
the chase.  What are you saying?  That you have another
theory you feel we should be pursuing?"

"I'm saying that we need to at least explore the possibility
that this case isn't what we think it is.  If for no other reason
than to eliminate it."

"So, what do you think happened?" Scully asks bluntly.

"It's not what I think happened; it's what I believe could be
a possibility.  I'm told that Agent Mulder and the other
people who were taken were true believers.  People 100%
convinced in the abduction phenomenon."

Skinner looks weary.  "If this is about these people staging
their own abductions. . .

"No, it's about people coming together.  Like minds as a
group," Reyes clarifies.

Scullys hands go to her hips as she tries to stare down the
taller woman.  "So you're basically saying that Agent
Mulder has joined some sort of UFO cult."

Reyes smiles.  "Call it a group."

"I remind you again, Agent Reyes, that I witnessed what
happened.  But, just for a moment  say that youre right.
Mulder joined a cult for what?" Skinner asks.

"Well, we've all heard the news stories about transport to a
mothership, the idea of a giant motherwheel.  The whole
Heaven's Gate thing."

Scully remains totally unconvinced.  "I see."

Agent Doggett jumps in.  "It'd make sense.  The leader of
the cult leaves this woman out here to die.  Learning she's
still alive he comes back to kidnap her again for fear of
exposure.  It'd make sense, too, that if we find this guy,
maybe we find Mulder."

Scully scoffs.  "Are you expecting me to believe this?  Is
that why you brought her here?  To try and talk me into
pursuing another theory?  One that's a little better suited
to your world view?  Or at least one that isn't going to piss
off Deputy Director Kersh?"

Reyes corrects Doggett.  "No, that's not what I said.  I don't
think he left her to die.  I don't think she's dead."

"Based on what?" Scully snaps.

"Nothing really.  Just a feeling."

Scully practically growls.  "That's it.  I've had enough of
this.  Agent Reyes, you can stand here and 'eliminate
theories' all you want, but I don't have that sort of time.  I
have to find my partner."

Scully turns on her heel and walks away without another
word.  Doggett follows.  Reyes smiles uncomfortably at
Skinner.

"What are you walking away for?  It makes some kind of
sense."  Doggett calls to her from behind.

Scully stops abruptly and pivots to face him.  "I'm glad
you agree with her, Agent Doggett, because I'm not even
sure that she agrees with you.  Nor has she made any
sense of how the doctor who removed Teresa Hoese from
the hospital last night seems, by all accounts, to have been
in two places at once."

Doggett looks put off.  "I know where you're going with
this, Agent Scully.  But if you're going to tell me this is
another alien bounty hunter, this is where we part
company.  I simply don't believe such a thing exists."

"That's fine for you.  But I've seen these things.  I know that
they do, and I don't have any inclination to coddle you
while you pick and choose what you want to believe.  Just
because you don't believe it, doesn't make it any less real."

She turns and walks away.



Absaloms farm

11.13am



In a small copse of trees, a man emerges from an
underground shelter of sorts.  He is a tall, erect man,
whose white hair belies his relative youth. The man moves
purposefully toward a large farmhouse some two hundred
yards away.  Absalom greets some people in passing, as
they are making their way from the house toward the area
he came from.  It is obvious he does not have time to waste
in conversation.  He enters the house, climbing the stairs
and entering a bedroom where another man sits beside a
bed upon which a young woman sleeps.

The woman is the badly beaten Teresa Hoese. The man
tending her has assumed his normal form.  Mulder and
Scully would have recognized him as Jeremiah Smith, the
shape-shifting healer.

"We were almost too late," Jeremiah says to the man who
has just entered the room.  He appears to be concentrating
as he lays his hand upon Teresa's forehead.

Absalom looks on in wonder as the minutes pass and the
healer works.  Jeremiahs expression is one of
determination and devotion.  When he finally removes his
hand, the noticeable scars on Teresas body have
disappeared. She now appears to be a perfectly healthy
woman sleeping peacefully. Jeremiah looks to the other
man, who smiles at him with tears in his eyes.



Deaconness Medical Center

2:50pm



Scully walks down the corridor of the hospital and pauses
outside a room, glancing inside.  Inside, Agent Reyes is
studying x-ray films.

"Oh hi," Reyes says as Scully enters the room.

"I thought you'd be out combing the hills with Agent
Doggett," Scully says, a trace of sarcasm in her tone.

Reyes is not to be drawn out, however.  "I'm on my way
out to see him.  I was curious about the films on this
woman's injuries  Teresa Hoese."

"Is there anything in particular that you're looking for,
Agent Reyes?" Scully asks, as she closes the door.

Reyes answer, delivered with little fanfare, shocks Scully.
"Implants, or signs of them."

Scullys face shows her puzzlement.

Reyes smiles in reply.  "Have I surprised you?"

"No.  No.  I'm just not used to discussing this sort of thing
without having to resort to a code which prevents others
from thinking I'm crazy."

"Metallic implants.  Placed in the body, oftentimes in the
nasal cavity. Sometimes made of bone or cartilage, making
detection a little more difficult," Reyes explains.  "I've seen
them before."

Scully arches an eyebrow.  "You've worked with
abductees?"

"Not often.  Ninety times out of a hundred, a case of
satanic ritual abuse I'm called in to consult on ends up
being kids doing drugs and their parents unable to deal
with that fact.  Nine times out of a hundred, the case is
cult-related.  Then, there's that one remaining case."

"Then you do believe in extraterrestrials?"

"I'm not a disbeliever," Reyes insists.  She smiles slightly at
Scully.  "More often then not, I'm inclined to think it's
trauma-induced confabulation.  But sometimes the
physical evidence points to something else.  Whether it's
done by man or EBE's, I couldn't say.  I've never seen an
alien, and that makes it hard to really believe in them."

Scully chuckles.  "Yeah, well I have and it still was hard to
believe."  She pauses for a moment.  "What is it you
specialize in again?  Ritualistic crime?"

"Right."  Reyes affirms.  "Satanic ritual abuse.  Or, I should
say claims of it.  We never found any hard evidence.
Cults, yes.  Satanic cults, no. More often than not, they're
Judeo-Christian in nature.  A Jim Jones, David Koresh sort
of thing.  Not that I don't believe in it.  I was something of a
black sheep in the New Orleans field office. . . because of
my beliefs."

Scully snorts.   "You and Mulder would get along just
fine."

Reyes smiles softly.  "Well, I hope I have the chance to find
out.  Now, I have to meet Agent Doggett."

Scully nods, taking the x-rays from Reyes and tucking
them back in the large envelope.

"Agent Scully?"  She turns as Reyes calls her name from the
doorway.  "I know you're afraid.  I understand that.  I've
seen it before, as has John.  But fear's not going to help you
find him or anyone else.  Don't shut everyone out just
because you're scared."

Scully nods solemnly, her mouth tight.  As Reyes leaves
and the door closes behind her, Scully's face turns darker,
more distraught.  Her fear is evident through the despair
in her eyes.



10:55pm

Reyes drives down a deserted highway at night.  She's
alone, nervous, repeatedly looking at the pack of Morley
Lights on the seat beside her.  She tries to resist the
temptation, but cannot, and finally she takes a cigarette
and puts it in her mouth.

Suddenly, without warning, the dashboard lights go dark,
and the car dies at 10:55 p.m.  She looks to the sky and sees
a bright light traveling through the night sky at an
extraordinary speed. The car starts up, the clock now
reading 11.04 p.m.  In shock and total bewilderment, she
removes the cigarette from her mouth, staring toward the
light.

"No way."  She is a mixture of childlike giddiness and
uncertainty.  Agent Reyes quickly turns the car around and
follows the light.  Ahead of her, the light nears the ground,
then disappears.

Reyes spots a pick-up truck stopping in the area the light
had been.   Two men get out, and kneel beside something
dark on the snow.

Registering what they are doing, that they have a body,
Reyes pulls up about 100  yards from the men and runs at
them, gun drawn.  She shouts, "Stop there!  Im a federal
agent!"

One of the men immediately sprints for the pickup truck.
The other hesitates, arm outstretched; for an instant, Reyes
could swear she sees *something* pass from him to the
person on the ground.  Then its over.  Before she can stop
them, both men are back in their truck driving away.

License plate memorized, Reyes lets them leave, intent on
the figure sprawled limply before her.  Cautiously, she
turns the body so she can see the face in the moonlight.  Its
a young man, barely out of his teens.  Hes not breathing.



Deaconness Medical Center

9:30am

13th December

The hospital waiting room is quiet.  Doggett and Reyes sit
opposite one another on uncomfortable chairs, Doggett
leafing idly through a magazine.

"I don't know how she's doing it in there. With everything
she's feeling. What she's afraid of."  Doggett puts the
magazine to one side with a sigh.

"You know all too well."

"Let's leave the past in the past." Doggett is defensive, but
Reyes continues.

"It was your fear, too. Those three days we looked for your
son. The fear of finding what we did.  I understand. That's
why you're so determined to find Mulder alive."

"It's why I can't stand here and listen to all this mumbo-
jumbo about spaceships." He says matter-of-factly.

"I saw what I saw, John. I'm not going to lie to you. But
whatever it was, it led to this. It's the man I saw in the
field."  Reyes brings out a photograph of a white-haired
man.  "He goes by the name Absalom. A religious zealot
who escaped a shoot-out in Idaho. Where he was the
nominal leader of a doomsday cult who believed aliens
would take over the world at the millennium. Disgraced
when they didn't, he fled and tried a more ecumenical
scam: credit card fraud.  I ran the plate on the truck.  It's
registered to a farm about an hour south of here."

Doggett pauses for a moment, then nods grimly.  "Let's
check it out."

10:02 a.m.



Scully looks at the young man laid out before her on the
slab.  She has done many autopsies, but this one is a little
close to home.

She gathers her thoughts and speaks into the tape recorder.
"Examination of victim, Gary Edward Cory, reveals cuts
and abrasions from ligature or binding devices,
accompanied by distal and proximal bruising radiating in
a symmetrical pattern around the ankles, the wrists," 
her voice begins to falter  "and the face."

She is interrupted by a policeman entering the
examination room, accompanied by Richie.  Richie stares
at the body in horror, his nightmare come true.  "Oh, my
God, Gary," is all he can breathe.

Scully looks at him, sympathy and empathy coloring her
voice.  "You can go now, Richie.  They just need you to
sign a form."  Richie looks at her silently, then back at his
friend, before stumbling out of the room. Scullys eyes
prick with tears as she watches him leave, imagining
herself in his place  afraid that soon she will be.

Turning on the tape recorder, she tries to continue the
external examination, but her mind is elsewhere.  "Victim
displays . .  . Victim . . . "   Her voice trails off.  Her
assistant looks at her with concern.  "Doctor Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

"Im fine.  I just. . . .  Could you give me a minute here?"

"Sure."  The young woman indicates the door to the
adjoining washroom.  "Ill be in there."

Scully takes off her gloves and goggles and pushes open
the door to the hallway.  Richie is still there, sitting on the
floor against the opposite wall.  Scully slides down to sit
beside him.  "Im sorry," she says.

He nods, almost imperceptibly.  "I was so sure," he says.  "
So sure Id find him.  You know?  I was just on my way to
check out a report of lights in the sky south of here ....  I
guess theres no point, now."

"Lights?"

"On the police scanner," Richie clarifies.  "Someone
reported a blue light ...."  His voice clears.  "Do you think it
might be Agent Mulder?"

Scully is suddenly on her feet.  "I need to check."

"Doctor Scully?"  Its an orderly, young and heavyset.  "Im
sorry to interrupt.  I was told to inform you that you have a
visitor in the cafeteria."

"Well, who is it?" she asks.  "I dont have time  "

"I didnt get his name.  Tall guy, brown hair.  He said
youd know him."

Scullys eyes widen, and a slow breath trickles from her
lips.  She looks at the orderly in confusion and disbelief,
her lips pressed in a tight line.  With each step, her pace
increases, and she hits the stairs at a jog.





10.10 a.m.

Reyes walks beside Doggett as they make their way to the
hospital parking garage.  Doggett opens his door and
settles into the seat, but something has caught her
attention.  Monica squints into the shadows of the next row
of cars over.

"What is it?" Doggett asks, noticing her attention is
elsewhere.

"There's a truck over there. . . I think it's the one I saw in
the field.  I can't see the plates from here, though," she
replies, not taking her eyes off the vehicle in question.
"There's someone in the driver's seat.  You call it in, I'm
going to see if it's "

Her voice trails off as the driver turns his head to look out
the window.  He sees her at the same moment she gets a
look at his face.  "It's him!" she yells, breaking into a run as
she reaches for her weapon.

Tires squeal as the long-haired man throws the truck into
reverse and punches the gas.  It swings out onto the paved
ramp and peels out just as she reaches it, her hands just
missing the back bumper.  She attempts futilely to run
after it, but it gains distance from her, careening around
the corner to tear up the row her car is parked in.  Doggett
has gotten out of the car and pulls his weapon, but the
driver doesn't see him and he's forced to jump out of the
way of the speeding truck.

Cursing, Reyes jumps off the deck of the garage onto the
level below, tumbling and crying out as she lands badly.
She regains her feet and moves slowly to the middle of the
aisle.  She aims her gun at the truck, shouting at the top of
her voice "FREEZE!  FBI!" and aims her gun squarely at the
windshield.  When the truck doesn't stop, she fires a single
shot.  The windshield shatters and the truck screeches to a
halt.  A moment later, a pair of hands are lifted into view.

"Get out of the car!" she yells, hearing the sound of
Doggett's footfalls behind her.  A moment later, a tall long-
haired man emerges from the truck.



10.13 a.m.



Scully slows her pace to a fast walk as she approaches the
waiting room. It is full of couches and chairs, and tables
strewn with tattered magazines.  It is also totally empty.
She turns a slow, bewildered circle, looking in every
direction for which way anyone waiting for her might have
gone.  Her forehead creases in consternation and
unhappiness.

"Scully?"  She whirls when she hears her name spoken,
finding Skinner approaching her from the entrance of the
cafeteria.  "Have you finished already?  What did you
find?"

"No, I was told someone was  Gary!" she gasps, in
sudden realization. She breaks into a sprint, heading back
to the autopsy bay.  She notices Skinner's footsteps behind
her, echoing down the flights of stairs, then the long empty
basement hall.  She bursts through the doors to find the
autopsy bay empty and Gary's body on the tray right
where she had left it.  She breathes heavily, winded from
her sprint and nervousness. She walks into the washroom,
startling her assistant.

"Did you see anyone come into the autopsy bay while I
was gone?  Hear anyone?"

The young womans eyes widen when Scully pulls her
gun out of her locker.

"No, just ....  Just me.  Did something happen?"

"I dont know yet."  Scully rejoins Skinner.

"I checked all the nearby rooms.  There's no one here,"
Skinner tells her.

"Well someone was here!  Someone told me"

"Told you what?

"Nothing."   She shakes her head abruptly, her expression
tense.  She turns away from Skinner, not wanting him to
see the moisture collecting in her eyes.

When she looks back at him, he isn't looking at her.  His
eyes are glued to the autopsy slab where Gary's body
awaits examination.

Scully turns to see what has Skinner so mesmerized.  "Oh
my God!" she exclaims, her eyes becoming large and
round.

Gary lies with his head turned toward them, eyes open,
blinking, uncomprehending.  "Where am I?" he rasps.



Sheriff's Office

1.45 p.m.



"I'm telling you the truth.  I only want to help those
people."  Absalom insists.

"Then tell me where Teresa Hoese is.  We had the local
police search your farm; she's not there.  She has a family
who loves her and misses her, a child who needs her.  Tell
me how to get her back to them," Scully pleads.

"I can't," he murmurs regretfully.  "There's too much at
stake.  Too many lives at risk."

Scully moves closer to him, whispering desperately.  "I
asked you to give me the truth."  She removes a folded
piece of paper from her pocket.  She raises it for Absalom
to see.  "Have you seen this man?  Have you helped him?"
she asks, her voice breaking.  She hands him the paper, a
copy of Mulder's ID photo.  He looks at it for several
seconds before firmly shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. No."

Scully's eyes fill with tears.

Doggett watches her, then leaves the interrogation room,
joining Skinner and Reyes where they stand outside the
one-way window.

"I want to know what he's hiding."  Skinner speaks more to
himself than the others.

"Yeah," Reyes replies.  "Me, too."

"Nothing turned up on his farm?" Doggett wonders.

"No."  Skinner shakes his head.  "Not a damn thing."

"And the ... lights in the sky?"  Doggett sounds almost
embarrassed even to ask the question.

Skinner sighs.  "Local drunk seeing stars in the daytime."

"Nothing might have come up at the farm," Reyes tells the
men, "but we found something on the hospital
surveillance video from the morgue."



2.30 p.m.



Scully gasps as she watches the tape of the corridor
outside the morgue. The doors to the autopsy bay swing
open, and a man exits.  "That man.  I know that man."

Reyes glances at her.  "Good.  Here he is again on the
elevator up from the basement level of the hospital," 
she gestures to another screen with images from another
camera  "and again in the lobby heading out the front
doors."

"Who is he?"  Skinner asks.

"His name is Jeremiah Smith," Scully explains.  "Agent
Mulder knew him.  He believed that he had the ability to
heal people."

Doggett looks up.  "What do you mean, heal people?"

"Like he did Gary Cory.  And maybe Teresa Hoese.
Maybe he's what Absalom's talking about. But where the
hell could he have taken her?"

"I don't know," Scully says briskly, turning from the screen.
"But right now, the only place we know he could have
gone is the farm.  We have to get out there."



3.50 p.m.

Absalom's Farm

They pull up behind a row of local police cars in the
driveway of the old farmhouse.  The lowering sun glares
off the churned-up snow "Home sweet home, Absalom,"
says Doggett.  The former cult leader, handcuffed between
Scully and Reyes in the back seat, grimaces.

"You two take the barn and the woods," Skinner instructs
Doggett and Reyes.  "Well check in with the locals."  The
two agents nod, and head for the barn in the distance.
Scully and Skinner take Absalom to the house.

"Find anything yet?" Skinner addresses the man in Sheriffs
uniform in the living room.

The Sheriff indicates Absalom.  "That the homeowner?"

Skinner nods, while Scully maneuvers the man to a
straight-backed wooden chair and sits him down.  The
Sheriff shrugs.  "Nope, we just got back out here
ourselves."  He waves a hand in the general direction of
the woods.  "We checked the house pretty thoroughly the
last time, so I sent my men to go poke around the woods,
see if they turn anything up."

"I think Ill go join them," Skinner says.  He addresses
Scully.  "You have everything under control in here?"

Scully closes the handcuffs around a chair rail and nods,
not looking at him.  Absaloms gaze is reproving.

Skinner sighs, and goes outside.



4:08 p.m.

Doggett picks his way through the woods north of the
barn, moving carefully in the gathering twilight.  The snow
here is soft from a recent thaw, pitted by fallen twigs and
slumped into bowls around the dark trunks of the conifers.
Ahead of him, he hears the snap of a fallen branch.

"Whos there?" he calls, then immediately curses himself
for giving his position away.  As rapidly as possible, he
moves toward the noise.



4:11 p.m.



"How did you meet Jeremiah Smith?"

"I dont know anyone by that name."  Absalom makes
himself as comfortable as possible in his chair, and meets
her gaze.

Scully eyes him, disbelieving.  With a glance to the Sheriff,
who is looking out a window across the room, she asks
quietly, "Did he heal Gary Cory and Teresa Hoese?"

"You dont understand," Absalom begins.

"Then help me.  Where is he now?"

The door opens, and Reyes enters.  "We found Teresa
Hoese," she says without preamble.  "In an old bomb
shelter out behind the barn."



4:12 p.m.



The first thing Doggett sees is the bottoms of a pair of size
nine and a half Nikes.  He steps around the row of young
trees and trains his gun on their owner.

The man is kneeling in the snow, facing away from him,
hands outstretched over 

"FBI!" Doggett shouts.  "Get away from the body and put
your hands up!"

The mans hands drop to his sides, but he does not
otherwise move.  "Youre going to expose me,"  he says.
"Youre putting people in danger  abductees all over the
country."

"Hands up," says Doggett.

Slowly, the mans hands rise.  "Youre making a mistake,"
he says.  "Im the only one who can save them."

Doggett seizes the mans hands and cuffs him.  "Tell it to
Agent Scully," he mutters.  With the man  Jeremiah
Smith  safely handcuffed, Doggett finally dares to take a
close look at the body on the ground.

After a moment, he turns away again, eyes shut, hands on
his hips.  "Damn."





4:38 p.m.

There is a sudden commotion outside the farmhouse.
Scully looks up from where she has been pacing the floor,
unable to convince Absalom to talk.  The door of the
farmhouse crashes open, and Jeremiah Smith is propelled
inside.  Skinner follows, looking grim.

Scullys eyes lock on the healer.  "Wheres Mulder?" she
asks softly, her voice strained with anxiety and hope.

"I was trying to help him," he replies equally softly.  "You
came crashing in here ..."

Scullys eyes rise to meet those of her superior.  "Mulder?"
she asks.

Skinners eyes slide down and away.  "Scully ..."

She bolts from the house.

Outside, it is approaching full dark, the sky an impossible
indigo blue, dotted with pinpricks of stars.  Flashlight
beams shine from the woods.  She follows them. Skinner
follows her.

In the clearing, Agent Doggett drapes a blanket, almost
tenderly, over a still figure on the ground. He rises to
intercept Scully before she can come near.

"How bad is he?" she shouts, trying in vain to pull away
from Doggett.  "How bad is he?  How bad is he hurt?"

"Agent Scully, please don't"

She doesn't hear him.  Her eyes are riveted on the form
lying wrapped in a blanket in the snow.  She isn't aware
that she's punching Doggett on the chest to force him to
release her.  She approaches the body, her knees wobbly
with trepidation.

She moves slowly toward him, whispering 'No' repeatedly
to herself.  She falls to the ground beside him, grasping his
face, her cries of denial increasing in volume.

Agent Reyes and Skinner look on in silence, paralyzed by
the sight before them.  It almost seems as if she's trying to
awaken him with her soft pleas, calling his name, unaware
of the tears falling from her eyes.  She runs her hands
frantically over his face and cold flesh as though seeking to
bring him back by touch alone.

Agent Doggett moves to stand behind her, gently helping
her up from her kneeling position.  It's on her ascent that
she notices the glimmer of gold. A sob escapes before she
can stifle it, and Scully is once again on the ground beside
her fallen partner.  It breaks her to see him in this
condition, battered, tortured, nude, yet still her necklace
hangs around his neck.  She tugs lightly on the thin metal,
finding the cross dangling over his left shoulder.

"He needs help," she yells.  "He needs help."  She
suddenly remembers where help can be found.

"Agent Scully, its too late."  The voice is gentle as Doggett
tries to hold on to her, but with a strength born of sheer
adrenaline she fights him off and runs quickly back the
way she came.  Back to find help.

She runs for what seems like hours, although in actuality it
is only seconds, back toward the house.  But as she nears
the farmyard, the night air becomes suddenly bright.  She
looks up to see the unbelievable.  A spaceship hovers just
above.  Her eyes are turned heavenward in astonishment,
but she runs on.  Inside that house is her only hope of
saving Mulder; she has to get to him before they do.

The light fades as she enters the house.  In the dimness of a
single lamp, she sees the Sheriff on his knees beside the
couch, shaking, staring blank-faced at the ceiling.
Absalom is still handcuffed to his chair.  Their eyes meet,
and he nods.  "Youre too late," he tells her, with a hint of
malice in his voice.  "Hes gone."

Hes gone.  In a daze, Scully wanders back to the door.
"No, please, no," she begs, tears streaming down her face.
She sinks to her knees with a wordless cry of anguish.



5:32 p.m.

Scully doesn't know how much time has passed since she
returned to the house.  She sits on the chair Absalom had
used.  Someone has wrapped a blanket around her.
Skinner hovers protectively, Doggett not far from him.
Reyes has taken the initiative of contacting the state
coroner.  There are more police cars and ambulances
outside that she doesn't remember pulling up.

She remains immobile and unspeaking until some instinct
compels her to lift her head and look out the window.
Teresa Hoese sits inside one ambulance, attended by
paramedics who check her for injury and exposure.  In
another, however, a gurney is being lifted inside.  A black
body bag rests atop it.

"We need to do an autopsy," she says woodenly.

Skinner nods slowly.  "Uh, yeah.  We've got the state
coroner on it.  Scully..."

But her tone is sharp.  "No.  I've got to do it.  I'm GOING to
do it."  Her voice softens, to barely above a whisper.  "He
wouldn't trust anyone else."

Skinner's voice registers shock.  "No, Scully.  No."  The
tone comes out sharper than he intends.  "I won't let an
agent under my supervision autopsy her partner, much
less..."  His voice trails off meaningfully.  "The answer is
no."

Tears prick at her eyes.  "Please," she begs.  "It's the last
thing I can ever do for him."

The man beside her heaves a big sigh.  He knows she
won't trust anyone else to do it, but he still won't let her.
He makes a compromise that isn't much of a compromise
at all, but the best she'll accept.  "You can be there."  The
man is defeated.



Deaconness Medical Center

14th December

9:02am



Joseph Hargreaves, the local county coroner, takes up the
scalpel.  He talks into his tape recorder, the words as
familiar to Scully as a nursery rhyme.  Words she had said
hundreds of times herself.  "Fox William Mulder.
Caucasian male, 39 years old.  Ill begin with the Y
incision."

Scully cant take her eyes of the scalpel.  With a horrible
fascination she watches it make the first cut, dragged down
his body.  Angry tears prick at her eyes again, and
furiously she fights them back.  But its too much for her.
Shes seen bodies, dealt with them, on numerous
occasions.  But not her lover.  Not her partner.  She looks at
his eyes, wishing she could meet his gaze one more time.
There was still so much she had to say.

Finally her own body begins to sag, her eyes begin to
close. Her heartbeat pounds sonorously in her own ears,
drowning out all other sound.  The voices of the coroner
and his assistant reach her as though across a great chasm,
faint and echoing.  A buzzing fills her head as the blood
leaves her brain, and she sinks to the floor.  The coroner's
assistant gasps, drawing his superior's attention to where
she has fallen.  The coroner shouts, and Skinner charges
into the room.  He curses himself and her under his breath,
picking her up while shouting for a gurney.  Within
moments, she is being taken up to the emergency room for
observation.



9:10 a.m.

The coroner picks up the scalpel again, preparing to
deepen the Y-incision he had started before Agent Scullys
collapse.

"Hold it!"  The doors to the autopsy bay swing open again,
and a man in an FBI jacket charges in. The coroner once
more removes his scalpel and rolls his eyes impatiently.
"What is it now?"

"There's been a change of plans. The victim's family is
protesting the autopsy on religious grounds."

"But we've already started!" the assistant protests.

"Too bad," The agent shakes his head. "Sew him back up.
No autopsy, no embalming, or the government's going to
be footing the bill on a helluva lawsuit."  The agent strides
out and the coroner gives his assistant another weary look.
"See?  This is what happens whenever the Feds show up."

"So what do we do now?"

"Do what the man says. Sew him up."

Out in the corridor, Agent Crane pauses as the morgue
doors swing shut behind him, pulling out his cell phone.
He hits the speed-dial and waits for a voice on the other
end to answer.  He only speaks two words.

"It's done."



Briar Dene Hotel

7:20 p.m.



Scully sits quietly in her hotel room.  Beside her on the
bureau, the soup Skinner brought her is cooling,
untouched.  A knock on the door makes her jump.

Agent Crane is outside in the cold, fingers clutched around
a thick sheaf of papers.  At her questioning look, he says,
"Autopsy report.  A.D. Skinner said youd want to take a
look at it."

 "Thank you."  She closes the door on her colleague, takes
 the copied sheets over to the bed, and spreads them out.

 "Evidence of exposure," she reads.  "External and internal
 bleeding."  "Heart failure."  On the last page, she finds an
 appended note.  "No evidence of cerebral trauma found."

Scully buries her face in her hands.



Blakely Funeral Home

18th December

2:30pm

Scully, standing at the front of the small room, looks out
over the gathered mourners.  The small collection of chairs
is nearly full.  Skinner sits toward the front, his posture
weary and defeated.  Frohike is beside him, hunched over
as though in physical pain.  His eyes and nose are red.
Byers pats him on the back comfortingly and Langly tries
his best to remain stoic, despite the occasional hard and
painful way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

Her mother sits off to one side, her eyes solemn and
encouraging when they meet Scully's.  Part of her wants to
curl up in her mother's lap and hide from the pain as she
did when she was little.

Agent Doggett sits further back, his normally impassive
face registering his own sense of loss, if for no other reason
than for her sake.  Agent Reyes is beside him, composed,
but moved by the grief around her.  Deputy Director Kersh
sits toward the rear, and though he is far too decorous to
be anything other than completely solemn, neither does
Scully detect he's here to mourn.

Other acquaintances of Mulder's  Chuck Burkes, Danny,
lab assistants, basketball buddies from the Y  fill the rest
of the chairs.

She begins to speak.  "When I stepped into that basement
office eight years ago, I had no idea of the journey that
would be before us.  I had no conception of the way you
would challenge my beliefs and force me to look beyond
what I now know to be the limited boundaries of science."

And in her minds eye she can see it as if it were yesterday.
Knocking on the door,  nobody here but the FBIs most
unwanted   shaking his hand.  Flinging herself into his
arms only days later in sheer relief that she had mere
mosquito bites.

"Mulder, since that day we have been through so much
together.  Not all of it was good  we both had to deal
with some difficult times."

Her sister shot, his father shot.  Lying in a hospital bed
dying of cancer.  Holding Mulder as he came to terms with
his mothers suicide.  Together.  Always together.

"But although it was hard, even frightening at times, I
wouldnt have changed a day.  For almost eight years I
was privileged to share your search for the truth.  Now
you have left to continue the journey alone. I hope and
pray, Mulder, that you have found the answers you sought
in life."

And now her voice fails her, begins to break, as she gazes
at the coffin one last time; and her next words are almost a
whisper.

"Ill miss you partner.  Goodbye."


