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 Scully’s 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 Kersh’s 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, I’ve heard rumours they found someone – I had hoped . ." his voice trails off.

Scully’s expression softens slightly, empathizing with the young man’s 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 won’t leave.  "Not until I’ve 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 won’t apologize though.  There’s 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, it’s important we see the victim as soon as possible, or we’ll never know who did this to her."  It’s 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 Skinner’s 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.

"I’m sorry.  I had a bad dream.."

Skinner’s 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 it’s billions of years old.  It won’t die, that light.  Perhaps it’s the only thing that never does.  He said it’s where souls reside."

Her voice breaks even more as she searches his eyes for some kind of answer that she knows he can’t give.  "I hope he’s right."

Skinner’s 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 can’t admit that Mulder won’t be coming back, for that is the only way to eradicate his guilt.

"If you’re trying to prepare yourself, I want you to stop." he says huskily.  "Look, nothing says that Mulder won’t just come walking out of the fields.  Nothing says he won’t 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 can’t 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 doctor’s 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?"   Scully’s 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." Scully’s 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.

Scully’s 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 you’re 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.

 

Absalom’s 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.  Jeremiah’s expression is one of determination and devotion.  When he finally removes his hand, the noticeable scars on Teresa’s 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."

Scully’s 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!  I’m 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 it’s 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.  It’s a young man, barely out of his teens.  He’s 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. Scully’s 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?"

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

"Sure."  The young woman indicates the door to the adjoining washroom.  "I’ll 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.  "I’m sorry," she says.

He nods, almost imperceptibly.  "I was so sure," he says.  " So sure I’d 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 there’s 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?"  It’s an orderly, young and heavyset.  "I’m sorry to interrupt.  I was told to inform you that you have a visitor in the cafeteria."

"Well, who is it?" she asks.  "I don’t have time — "

"I didn’t get his name.  Tall guy, brown hair.  He said you’d know him."

Scully’s 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 woman’s eyes widen when Scully pulls her gun out of her locker.

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

"I don’t 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.  "We’ll 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 Sheriff’s 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 I’ll 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.  Absalom’s 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.

"Who’s 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 don’t 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 don’t 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 man’s hands drop to his sides, but he does not otherwise move.  "You’re going to expose me,"  he says.  "You’re putting people in danger — abductees all over the country."

"Hands up," says Doggett.

Slowly, the man’s hands rise.  "You’re making a mistake," he says.  "I’m the only one who can save them."

Doggett seizes the man’s 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.

Scully’s eyes lock on the healer.  "Where’s 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 ..."

Scully’s eyes rise to meet those of her superior.  "Mulder?" she asks.

Skinner’s 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, it’s 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.  "You’re too late," he tells her, with a hint of malice in his voice.  "He’s gone."

He’s 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.  I’ll begin with the Y incision."

Scully can’t 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 it’s too much for her.  She’s 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 Scully’s 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 you’d 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 mind’s eye she can see it as if it were yesterday.  Knocking on the door, — ‘nobody here but the FBI’s 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 mother’s suicide.  Together.  Always together.

"But although it was hard, even frightening at times, I wouldn’t 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.

"I’ll miss you partner.  Goodbye."






















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