GROVETON 1/8 by Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Carol Jenner Ecksphile@aol.com, Agnt CJ@aol.com April 30, 1997 They're baa--aack! By popular demand, Chris and Candy are back in an XFiles adventure, driving Mulder and Scully crazy. No tornadoes or other weather disturbances this time, but plenty of government conspiracy, aliens and a real XFile. Not to mention UST, violence, implied sex, jealousy, and several other deadly sins. Several of these characters don't belong to us. If you recognize their names, they probably belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox TV. If they belonged to us, Samantha would be found, Scully would be cured, the UST would be RST, and there'd be a lot more shots of Mulder and Skinner in their underwear. Please archive!!! May be copied, disseminated, whatever, as long as this story remains unchanged and our names attached as authors. Category: X Rating: R for language and violence Spoilers: Anything pre-Never Again, US4 GROVETON Chapter One Groveton, Florida Thursday, February 27, 1997 2:37 A.M. She smiled in her sleep. Sated and exhausted by the athletics of their lovemaking, she snuggled more closely to her lover. Outside in the velvet dark, countless tree frogs cheeped their song. Moisture dripped from palm fronds and pooled in the cups of bromiliads. From time to time the soft whirr of owls' wings cut through the night, followed by the sharp squeal of their prey. Suddenly, all was deathly quiet. A zephyr stirred the dingy curtains in the windows of the bedroom and automatically, her hands drew the thin covers over her shoulders. On the fourth-hand mahogany dressing table, small items began to tremble - comb, brush, gold hoop earrings, bottles of nail polish, a little pile of pocket change. Gently at first, then more energetically, they danced across the surface of the table like waterbugs on a still pond. A low throbbing filled the tiny house, with treble counterpoint provided by glass vibrating in the windows. For a fraction of a second, the impenetrable dark was exterminated by a blinding flash of blue-white light, gone almost before it could register on the eyes. Frowning, she turned in her sleep. But the light and vibration were gone, and she slept on. - - - "How do you want your eggs?" he called from the stove. Smiling, she pulled the tank top down over her head and stepped into some running shorts. It was a joke between them - he cooked eggs only one way, no matter what her preferences or his original intentions. She padded barefoot over the cracked and pitted linoleum out into the kitchen. "Let's see - maybe shirred today... or perhaps Eggs Benedict. Oh, I know! How about Eggs Florentine?" She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed the side of his neck. He grunted. "How 'bout scrambled?" he asked as she crossed the small room. "Great idea." She perched in a chair at the rickety table, hugging her knees to her chest. "You slept well last night," she observed slyly. He smiled as he pushed the eggs around in the pan. "I had good reason to, wouldn't you say? God, woman, you exhausted me!" "Nonsense," she grinned. "I'm merely providing you with both an incentive and a method to stay in top physical condition." She looked appreciatively at his broad shoulders, trim waist and washboard stomach. Whatever their problems, lackluster sex was not one of them. Tossing back her golden hair, she raised the window further, peered up at the sky and sighed. "Another boring, beautiful day." He scooped the eggs out of the pan and onto plates, added buttered toast and carried them to the table. "Well, just wait until summer. The thunderstorms, hail and tornadoes will thrill you. Maybe even a hurricane, if you're lucky." They ate in silence for a while. "Juice?" she asked, rising. "No thanks - had mine. Picked and squeezed fresh this morning. Yours is in the fridge." She wandered back to the table but remained standing, her hand trailing over the back of his shoulders. "So what are your plans for today?" He shrugged. "More digging, I guess." For several weeks he had been spearheading a project in the little town, an irrigation system designed to pump well water to the fields and groves. Not that anything much would flourish there anyway, in the mixture of clay and sand. He sighed. Water first, then on to bigger and better things - like fertilizer and topsoil. Assuming he could whip up enough enthusiasm in the locals, that is. He looked up, seeing the small frown of dissatisfaction marring her lovely face. For the millionth time, he kicked himself mentally. He should have known better. With her quicksilver mind, she couldn't help but be bored to tears in this backwater town. If only they could have stayed in Zaire.... "The Crampton's pig is due to farrow. Want to go see if we have piglets yet?" She lit up with a smile of childlike pleasure. "That'd be nice." She dumped the dishes in the scratched porcelain sink and skipped to the screen door, holding her hand out to him. "Let's go." He stood, and grasping her hand, led the way outside and up the single dirt road of the town. "Sure is quiet this morning. Feels like it's gonna be a hot one today. Maybe everyone's inside, saving their strength." "Yeah, it is quiet," he agreed. Then his expression grew puzzled and his brows knit together in a frown. "As they say in the movies, 'too quiet'." He dropped her hand as he loped up the road and to the left, to their nearest neighbor's house. Leaping the two rotting wooden steps up to the porch, he cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in through the screen door. "Roy? Belle? Are you in there?" He was answered with more silence. Turning, he rejoined Candy in the road. "This is weird." "Maybe they've gone into Sebring to get supplies," she suggested. He looked far from convinced. "Maybe. But usually everyone knows when people are going into town so they can give them their lists of stuff to pick up. Besides, look down there. Luther's truck and the town van are still here. They wouldn't walk the thirty-odd miles into Sebring." They continued down the road, stopping at the Crampton's place. "Frank? Rae Jean?" Tentatively they opened the door and went inside. Everything was orderly, if shabby. In the small parlor, yesterday's newspaper lay on the faded sofa, as if placed there for a moment while the reader answered the phone or grabbed a snack. Chris looked around, and placed his hand on the old radio. "Why don't you check the other room?" She returned a few moments later. "The bed hasn't been slept in, as far as I can tell. And I checked in the bathroom - the toothbrushes are dry and so's the tub." "So either the Crampton's aren't real scrupulous about their personal hygiene, or they haven't been here for several hours. The radio's cold - and you know how Rae Jean likes her radio. Let's check the barn." "Great! Chris, this is so strange! A real mystery, right here in boring old Groveton." Chris glanced over at her. For the first time in weeks there was animation in her voice and her face was alight with curiosity. While concerned regarding the whereabouts of his neighbors, he was glad to see the old Candy back. Exiting by the back door, they surveyed the little farm from the porch. Beyond the barn, two fields showed scraggly rows of crops while a third field lay fallow. Marking the boundary of each field, the dark green, orange and yellow of the small citrus groves bobbed in the light, warm breeze. Not a soul was in sight on the Crampton's property nor any of the surrounding ones, as far as they could tell. They crossed the deserted barnyard and swung back the creaking wooden doors to the barn. "No piglets, " Candy observed. "In fact, no pigs, cows, horses or chickens. This is strange. I mean, thirty six people plus livestock and chickens can't just up and move without a sign or a sound. Chris, what do you think is going on here?" "I have no idea," he murmured. "Come on, let's check out the other houses." One by one, each drab little house was searched, each barn examined. The story was the same for each. Every living creature other than themselves had vanished from the town. Chris stood with his hands at his hips, gazing around in disbelief. "What the hell happened to everybody?" - - - - - Washington DC Saturday, March 1, 1997 4 PM The mug of fresh coffee levitated in front of her face like an apparition. She looked up. "Thought we could do with a break." He set the coffee down on her desk, then threw himself into his chair and settled into a comfortable slouch. He looked like hell. She suspected she did too. The Jeffords case had been brutal - the kind of case they both hated. Six preschoolers in the Cheyenne, Wyoming area had been abducted over the last four months, three of them in the last two weeks. All had been found dead within a few days of their disappearances. Their bodies displayed so much evidence of apparently mindless savagery that animal attacks had been blamed for the first couple of deaths. Finally someone on the Cheyenne P.D. noticed that, rather than mindless, the deaths had been surrounded with a sick kind of ritual. And where there was ritual, there was intelligence. No one on the Cheyenne P.D. or even in the local office of the Bureau could fathom how a human could have committed such atrocities. Then another child was reported missing. Washington had been contacted, and Skinner had Mulder and Scully on a plane that very day. They had gone to work immediately, and within forty eight hours had their man, even saving the life of his latest abduction victim. But not before they had both been traumatized by the small, tortured bodies they had seen. By mutual consent they had left the city as soon as possible, but the stench of madness and death had not been left behind. The memories would haunt their dreams for months to come. And now .... And now, thought Scully, writing all the reports, seeing the photos, simply threw a spotlight on all the horror and tragedy they had seen. Somehow Skinner knew. Perhaps he had gotten a phone call from Gantry, the ASAC out in Cheyenne. Or maybe he just knew his agents so well that he could anticipate the effect that this case would have had on them. That morning he had paid a rare visit to their office. Nothing was said, but his demeanor was almost guilty, almost apologetic for the horror his order had exposed them to. Glimpsing one of the photographs on Mulder's desk, he himself had paled, and his lips had set in a thin, tight line. When the paperwork was finished, he ordered, they were to take a week off with pay. He never explained why, but then, he didn't have to. Mulder had nodded and Skinner, never comfortable in the strange basement lair, left without another word. "How much longer, do you think?" he said wearily. "Unless you're a hell of a lot speedier writing these reports than I think you are, at least another three or four hours, I'm afraid." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Tiredly, he looked over at her. "What were your plans for tonight?" he asked tentatively. "Because as far as I'm concerned, as uncharacteristic as it might be, I'd rather just keep at it until we're finished." "I'm with you, Mulder. I want to work through, until we have every damn 'i' dotted and 't' crossed. I never want to hear about this goddamn case again." The slight tremor in her voice was enough to tell him how close she was to breaking. She was paler than usual, the dusting of freckles across her nose standing in stark contrast to the bleached ivory of her skin. Under her eyes, dark circles attested to the nightmare-scattered sleep of the past several nights. At this point, she was holding herself together by guts alone. He nodded. "Look, let me phone for a pizza, so we don't even have to stop for dinner." "Just a salad for me. My stomach's not too great at the moment." He glanced at her sharply, but she had already returned to the pile of papers before her. There wasn't any use arguing with her, but she had lost several pounds on the Cheyenne trip - weight she couldn't afford to lose. He was damned if she would lose any more. He stood and pulled on his jacket. "Maybe I'll check the cafeteria to see if they're having any non-lethal specials today." "You never know," she said, not looking up from her work. "Maybe it'll be an X-File." He smiled slightly and closed the door behind him. Scully worked for about twenty minutes before he returned. "What's this?" she asked, surprised. "From the deli around the corner. Corned beef on an onion roll for me, chicken soup and crackers for you. Iced tea for the both of us. Eat up - it's good for you," he said, setting the container in front of her. She glanced warmly at him. "Thanks, Mulder." "My pleasure." They ate in silence. Scully was surprised to find how hungry she was, and finished every drop of the hot, savory soup. Her color was a little better after she had eaten. "That was great. Now back to - " They were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. She scooped up the receiver. "Scully." Mulder noticed her tense, her knuckles blanching as she held the phone. He stood, a look of concern passing over his face. In a flat, resigned voice, she said, "Yes, it's all right. We know them. Send them down." She let the receiver fall from her fingers to clatter back onto the phone. She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "That was Security in the lobby. They want to know if we know two people called Chris and Candy. They're on their way down." "Shit! What the hell could they want?" At the moment, Mulder's resentment at the intrusion no less than Scully's. He honestly didn't think he could handle Candy's breathless, if ephemeral, enthusiasm right now. And Scully, feeling as she did after the Jeffords case, was in no condition to try to put up with her either. Or the waves of testosterone emitted by Chris, he thought sourly. "I have no idea what they want," she said tiredly. "Mulder, look... can we just get rid of them? I'm whipped, and in no mood for a social chat." "No argument from me. I'll handle it." Ten seconds later there was a knock on their door, instantly followed by Candy's excited entrance. "Scorpy!" she squealed, and launched herself into his arms. Chris followed, nodding to Mulder and catching Scully around the waist to swing her around. "Dana, you look beautiful as always." "Uh, thanks, Chris," she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "Why don't you have a seat? Oh, just a sec...." She cleared some maps and files off the two remaining chairs in the room. "Come out to dinner with us," Candy demanded. "We just got into town and we have to celebrate! We haven't seen you in a while, and there's so much to catch up on." "Sorry, no can do. As you can see, we're buried in paperwork." Mulder disentangled himself with difficulty from her embrace. Swiftly, he gathered the case photos and put them in a folder so they couldn't be seen. They certainly weren't for general consumption. "I'm afraid this is going to be a work night for us. Besides, we've just eaten." A knowing smile lit her face. "I bet I know how I can change your mind," she sang teasingly. He caught Scully's eyes, her expression nearly screaming, 'Change your mind and you're dead meat'. He shook his head. "Sorry, Candy. We can't come out to play right now. We have to finish up this mess." He sat down. "What have you two been up to, anyway? It's been - what, almost a year since we last saw you." "Oh, this and that," she said airily. "Getting deported, you know, that sort of thing." "Getting deported? From where?" Scully blurted, before she could stop herself. Now you've done it, she thought. The explanation will just prolong the agony. "We were doing some relief work for the Red Cross among the refugees in Zaire. Well, you know me," Chris said with an apologetic grin to Scully. "I have a very short fuse where bureaucracy is concerned at the best of times. But it was so damn frustrating seeing money and food earmarked for the refugees being stolen left and right by petty officials. Both Candy and I tend to be somewhat...direct, and it wasn't appreciated by the powers that be. In retrospect, I guess we were lucky. If we hadn't been deported, we probably would have been assassinated for refusing to give in to some bureaucrat's extortion demands and our bones would have been found in the jungle ten years from now." "Well, it sucked," Candy said flatly. "We were doing good work, necessary work. I was involved in some research on weather patterns that could have made a real difference to crop yields - assuming they ever stop killing each other long enough to plant crops, that is." Chris took up the tale again. "Anyway, we found ourselves back in the States. That was ten weeks ago. The Red Cross was pissed because we 'failed to act like courteous guests of the government of Zaire'. They've been giving me the runaround about my next assignment. Just between us, I think they'd be very happy if I just disappeared." "Then they'd be fools," Scully declared. "You're so good at what you do." Just as Candy's remarks were pointedly addressed only to Mulder, she aimed hers at Chris. He smiled at her. "I know. But apparently they want disaster workers who minored in diplomacy. I thought with the floods out west that they could use both Candy and me. But every time I try to contact them to get an answer, it's 'don't call us, we'll call you - when we're damned good and ready'." "So what have you been doing?" "It was karma," Candy announced to Mulder dramatically. "We were just travelling around, you know? Waiting for something to happen? And it did! We were driving through the middle of Florida, in this tiny backwater town called Groveton, when our Jeep broke down. Well, the people there were really nice. They drove Chris into Sebring - the nearest city of any size - to try to get the replacement part, but it was going to have to be ordered. So they brought him back to Groveton and offered us the use of a house until the part came in." "That was nice of them," commented Mulder. Candy grinned. "You haven't seen the house. Anyway, the part was delayed for like a week, by which time we had gotten to know everyone pretty well. And the place is so poor and so depressed, well.... Chris and I thought maybe we'd stay and see if we could help them in some way. You know, to try to repay their hospitality." That'll teach 'em, thought Scully sourly. She could only imagine the effect of a woman like Candy on a tiny, remote community. She fidgeted in her chair, anxious for the couple to be on their way. "The town - well, it's not really even a town," explained Chris. "The residents aren't very talkative, but I found out some information from the historical society in Sebring. The Federal government started a project in Groveton about fifteen years ago. They built twenty little three-room houses and set each on five acres of land. The original intention was to try to make migrant workers more independent by giving them their own little homestead to farm." "It's hard to remember that your original intention was to drain the swamp when you're up to your ass in alligators," observed Mulder, his eyes twinkling. Chris chuckled. "Exactly. The houses had been built to strict government specification. Of course, with the government involved, the result was predictable... it was a complete disaster. Wood is not the building material of choice for the Florida humidity, and the houses started rotting. The migrants demanded help with the repairs, and the funds for the project dried up fast. Without financial backing until they could get on their feet, the migrants couldn't stay. They went back to following the crops." "But there are people still there, I thought you said," prodded Mulder. Candy draped herself over his shoulders. "Well, therein lies a tale, Scorpy. They were - but now they aren't!" He looked at her blankly. "What?" Chris cut in. "That's why we're here. It's not just a social call. We need your help." "The people have all disappeared!" Candy exclaimed. "One day they were there, the next morning they were gone!" Knowing Candy all too well, Mulder turned to Chris for confirmation. "She's right," he admitted. "Everything the night before was just like it always was, and the next morning, there wasn't a soul left in town. Even the livestock was gone." "Did you hear anything? Car engines in the middle of the night or anything like that?" asked Mulder, intrigued in spite of himself. "Nope - not a thing. And besides, other than our Jeep, there were only two other vehicles in the whole place - a van and a pickup - and they were all present and accounted for the next day." She looked at him triumphantly. "See - told you I could make you change your mind. Thirty-six people - vanished! Know what I think, Scorpy?" "I'm afraid to hazard a guess," he said weakly. He spoke the truth - Scully's eyes were burning into him like azure lasers. "I think they were all abducted by aliens." "Beam me up, Scottie," Scully muttered. Louder, she said, "Look, you really can't think that an entire town was abducted en masse. I mean, why wouldn't you have been abducted at the same time?" Candy gave her question serious consideration. "You know, I've been asking myself that ever since it happened. It must be that since I was already abducted once, I wasn't needed again." Scully snorted. Mulder's glance at her was pleading for her patience. "Look, Candy, you and I have talked about that before. I know you think you were abducted and I know it seemed very real to you, but that was just your imagination in overdrive." "Okay - then how do you explain the whole town disappearing?" she demanded, neatly shifting the subject away from her delusions. "Well, I can't," he said helplessly. "What do the local authorities have to say about it?" "That's why we came for your help," responded Chris. "According to the local authorities, no one's been there for years." - - - - - The explosion wasn't long in coming. "GodDAMN it, Mulder! 'I'll handle it'.... THAT's how you handle it? How dare you tell that... that fruitcake... that we'd go down and investigate that disappearance? We're both exhausted, we still have a mountain of paperwork to get through, and you KNOW what she's like!" She threw herself, smouldering into her chair. "How could you have done that to us?" Mulder sighed. He had been able to get rid of Chris and Candy only after promising they would go down to Florida with them as soon as the paperwork on the Jeffords case was finished. In truth, he was intrigued by their story, and he had a week off with nothing to do looming ahead, an occurrence he always tried to avoid. "You know me, Scully. I hate time off. It's such a waste. And it's not like this will be real work. We'll have plenty of time to rest and recuperate, just like Skinner intended us to. And you have to admit that there are worse things than spending a week in Florida in the middle of the winter," he said persuasively. "And the fact that Candy and Chris haven't tied the knot yet would have nothing to do with it, I suppose," replied Scully bitterly. "What? I though they got married last year." "Mulder, for an highly intelligent man and a brilliant investigator, you can be so fucking dense sometimes. No wedding ring, Mulder. On either of them. And no tan lines indicating rings were ever there." He stared at her, then a small smile teased his lips. "Jealous, Scully? That doesn't sound like you." "Of course I'm not jealous! Jealous of what, for Christ's sake?" "Would it help if I promised you that I have no desires, carnal or otherwise, regarding Dr. Candy McDermott? Look Scully, I meant it when I said was interested in what was going on down there. You probably are too. It will undoubtledly have a rational explanation, and then we can go soak up the sun. Or if you really don't want to go, that's okay. I can accept that. I can go alone. I didn't mean to necessarily commit you to this fool's errand." She sighed. "Mulder, that's not the point and you know it. We're both exhausted. We still have all this paperwork to do. You need the rest. I'm sure Skinner wouldn't have given you the week off if he had known you plan on spending it combing the swamps of Florida for missing persons." "Me? I'm fine, Scully." The irony of having her own standard hollow response tossed in her face fueled her fire once again. "You're NOT fine, Mulder. YOU had to take Jeffords down, YOU'RE the one that shot him before he could butcher that kid. And although there were few people on this earth more deserving of death than Marvis Jeffords, I KNOW how that affects you. You dwell on it for weeks, beating yourself up, not sleeping. You need the rest, Mulder - you're dead on your feet. But now that you've gotten us into this, we're more or less committed. So you stay here, and I'll go down, conduct a quick and undoubtedly fruitless investigation that will satisfy them and then come back here." "Wait a minute. *I* need the rest - and you don't? Is that what you're implying here? Scully, I know what went on during that autopsy you performed in Cheyenne." "What?" Her voice was a harsh whisper. "Now you're spying on me?" He crossed over to her chair and squatted down beside her, placing his hands in her lap. "I wasn't spying - I was concerned, Scully," he said softly. "Gantry told me. You got halfway through and you had to leave the room. When you came back ten minutes later, he said it looked like you had been crying." She flushed and looked down. Something about the case, the horrors the children had suffered, had gotten to her. For the first time in her life, her clinical detachment had failed her in the autopsy suite, and she had barely gotten into the scrub room before bursting into body-shaking sobs. She had composed herself finally, wiped her eyes, and pulled back the mask and goggles before returning to the autopsy and the agents gathered around to witness it. "Gantry had no business telling you about that," she muttered. "He was worried about you, Scully. *I* was worried about you. You know, it's not a crime - it's not weak - to show very human emotions sometimes. God knows there was enough justification for it on the Jeffords case. You've lost at least five pounds over the past week - weight you couldn't afford to lose - and you haven't been sleeping any better than I have. Admit it." Her shoulders moved in a slight shrug. She looked down at him. "I could cheerfully kick your ass from here to the Memorial for getting us into this, Mulder." His eyes warmed. "Which one? Vietnam Vets, Jefferson, Lincoln - " "Take your pick." She sighed. "All right. We stick together." Mulder smiled encouragingly at her. "Okay, then. We'll finish up the paperwork tomorrow morning and take off for Florida with Chris and Candy in the afternoon. We'll play like investigators for a day or so, then hit the beach. Scully, trust me. This is going to be a nice, relaxing week off." End of Chapter One Chapter Two Sunday, March 2 6 PM The flight to Florida was less than uneventful. Because of the short notice and the annual college Spring Break season, all planes were booked, even for FBI agents on a case. The best the foursome could do was two seats in first class, and two in economy, Row 48. After coins were tossed, and promises and death threats made, Chris and Scully got stuck in the back of the plane, while Candy and Mulder sat in comfort in front of the curtain. The four decided it would be best if they shared their Jeep instead of letting Mulder and Scully rent a car. The town of Groveton wasn't on any map and the way to get there was harder than navigating the streets of DC. Mulder and Scully were both so exhausted mentally and physically that they welcomed trading driving for the two hours of downtime. The scenery was typical Florida - to a Floridian, that is. It wasn't Disney World, by any means. Lush green vegetation and the smell of dank and decay wafted through the crack in the windows. It was spring, so the truly wilting heat and humidity associated with Florida hadn't begun, but for two Northerners plucked from the dead of winter, it was much warmer than they were used to, especially since the Jeffords case had them in frigid cold of Wyoming. It was all part of being an FBI agent, thought Scully sleepily. Freezing one day, boiling the next. Hell on the health, the skin and wardrobe. The partners dozed in the back seat until they felt the car slow. "Are we there?" yawned Scully, as she stretched her cramped arms. The heel of her hand connected smartly with her partner's jaw. "Oh my God, Mulder! I'm so sorry." "Good to know you don't hold a grudge," he grumbled sleepily. "You have no idea how good," she smiled sweetly. In truth, she wasn't that sorry. Back in Coach, she'd been cramped longer than he had. Mulder and Candy had even been served complimentary champagne and edible food. "Okay, kids. We're home." The tires crunched as Chris pulled the Jeep into a gravelled area. The evening gloom appeared more like midnight. The only light they had was from the car headlights, providing the agents with only a partial picture of their surroundings. The building ahead of them looked like it needed a few coats of paint. The wood looked weather beaten. Chris parked the car and turned off the headlights. "Okay, Mulder and I will unload the car. Candy, how about you and Scully going in and fixing up some snacks or something?" In the shadows, Candy's head nodded and she opened the car door. The suddenness of the light made the two sleepy agents cover their eyes. Wearily Mulder and Scully got out of the car. Scully followed Candy into the house, or what passed as a house in this town, and Mulder helped Chris unload the trunk. "You know, Candy and I really appreciate you coming down here. I realize that you two are busy and all." His voice tapered off as he reached farther into the trunk. "Oh, it's no problem. Sorry about the plane. I'm sure Scully will make me pay for it over and over, but it was nice catching up on old times with Candy." "Old times? That's right, I guess you two didn't have much time for talking when you met last May." He subtly emphasized the word 'talking'. Ouch, thought Mulder. Chris was referring to the first time he met Candy. She was draped naked on the bed and Mulder was struggling to get into boxer shorts. At a loss for an adequate reply, he just cleared his throat, picked up Scully's and his suitcases and trudged into the house. Candy gave Scully a quick tour of the house, what there was of it. Mulder's apartment was bigger than their little shack. The wood had fallen victim to the heat, humidity and carpenter ants. For once, Scully longed for one of those cheap-out-of-the-way motels that Mulder was famous for picking just because NICAP had recommended it. "I'm sorry we don't have a spare bedroom. The couch does pull out into a bed. Chris and I debated about where we were going to put you. We were thinking that you and I would sleep together in the bedroom, and the boys share the couch." "I would hate to put you and Chris out of your bed. Mulder and I are adults, we can share - or Mulder can sleep on the floor." "Oh, God, don't let that happen. I'm not sure, but I think we have an ant problem." Scully noticed a prehistoricaly large ant making its way determinedly across the window sill, and felt her skin crawl. "Well then, he'll just have to behave." Candy patted her arm and gave her a woman-to-woman smile. Scully stepped back a bit. "Well, I'm starved. Chris and I got only a couple bags of peanuts on the flight." She started to pull crackers and other snacks out of the cupboards. "With the price of airline tickets you'd think they would provide more food." She heard the men's voices in the living room and took the opportunity to escape the traditionally female role Chris had blandly relegated her to. "Hey, Dana. What's to eat?" "Ask Candy." "Mulder, you want a beer?" "Uh, sure." He looked at his partner as if asking for approval. "Scully, you want one?" "No. Do you have ice tea?" "Yup, sure do. It's my favorite drink in the world. Nector from the gods. I'll go help Candy and we'll call you when it's ready. I'm sorry we don't have central air. You look a little hot. You may want to open up the windows, but be sure the screens are in securely. We don't want to fill the house with wildlife." Mulder just nodded but stared at his partner. He was exhausted,and feeling it. He could only imagine how Scully was feeling. "Scully, I..." "Save it, Mulder," she said in one of her 'I don't want to talk about it' tones. She went over and started tugging at the window. Mulder crossed to try to help, but she waved him away. Finally the window gave and slid up with a squeak. He slumped down in a sagging chair and propped his left foot on top of a suitcase. "So what do you think? Cozy place." Scully finished putting the screen in. She turned around and rolled her eyes. "Okay, kids! Soup's on!" The call emerged from the kitchen in unison. Mulder dragged himself out of the chair and followed Scully into the kitchen. His eyes and head hurt from the bright florescent light, painful after the welcomed dimness of the living room. Candy put down a tray full of different sized crackers, assorted cheeses, and some pepperoni. Chris popped open a beer for Candy and Mulder and poured Scully and himself some iced tea. Mulder saw the iced tea and looked longingly at it - no doubt it would be better for his throbbing head than the beer he held. The foursome sat and ate quietly, while bugs were getting zapped into oblivion outside the back door. "Okay, now that we are here, tell us more about the town and the people," suggested Scully. The sooner they got this case closed the more they would have left of their week's vacation. "We pretty much told you everything. What do you want to know?" inquired Chris. "Well, what kind of people were they? Where were most of the people from?" "Why do you need to know that?" demanded Candy. "If they were from somewhere else and not planning to be here permanently, they may have returned to wherever they call home. Maybe if we know where they could be headed we can figure out why they'd so suddenly leave -" "LEAVE? They didn't leave - they were taken!" Candy stood up and slapped her hand on the table. "We told you in Washington. They were taken. We woke up and they were gone. How can you say they just left?" "Candy," Mulder said without raising his voice, "we haven't determined that they were taken, nor have we determined that they had left on their own. Agent Scully is just trying to get all the facts." Candy had sat back down. "I'm sorry, Dana. Please continue." She took a big cleansing breath. "As I was saying, the people who lived here, were they what you would expect of migrant workers, recent immigrants? "No," said Chris, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "In fact, I would say they were all of northern European descent, but as American as apple pie. Spoke perfect, even educated, English without any trace of an accent." Scully frowned slightly. "What about the children? Did they attend a public school here in town or were they home schooled?" "Children," repeated Candy, flatly. She looked at Chris thoughtfully. "You know, I never really thought about it before, but there weren't any children." "We didn't associate much with the town's folks. They were friendly enough, but in a distant kind of way. Kinda kept everyone at arm's length. Everyone - really, I guess it was only us." There was a long pause. "Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing any old people, either. Everyone in town seemed to be about the same age - late thirties, maybe early forties." Scully had her black notebook out, writing everything down. "And that didn't strike you as odd?" Chris merely shrugged. "Okay. So what do they grow around here?" "Mostly just vegetables, a little corn and hay. Some green leafy stuff I didn't recognize. And citrus, of course. I was helping them work on an irrigation system, but they really didn't need my help." "What do you mean by that?" asked Mulder, casually sipping his beer. "Well, they just didn't care about it. A few times, I tried to make a few suggestions, but they were met with disinterest, like it wasn't really important how the crops did. They seemed more - I dunno, distracted I guess - than other migrant groups I've worked with. But these people were tight, seemed to have extraordinarily close relationships with each other, some sort of solidarity. I can't explain it better than that." "Well, I for one would like to see the town," remarked Mulder as he finished off his beer. As tired as he was, it had left him with a pleasant buzz. "Scully, care to take a stroll?" "Mulder, it's dark out, it's late and I'm tired." "Scully, it's only 8:00." She just peered at him. Keep it up Mulder, and you'll be sleeping with the ants, she thought darkly. "Listen, why don't we get some showers and go to bed," suggested Chris. "It's been a long day, and tomorrow promises to be longer. Candy will take you two through town and let you snoop around." "We don't snoop. We investigate." Scully gave a brief grin to Chris; they were obviously sharing a private joke. "I think Chris is right." She glanced over to her partner. "Come on, Mulder." She bumped his leg. "You and I are bunkin' together." "Oh, but...." began Chris, but Candy, her eyes hot and sultry, stifled his protest with a glance. "I'll go get you some sheets." - - - The beer buzz evaporated, Mulder was like the walking dead. Scully made him pull out the sofa bed and warned him if he tried any funny business he would be the next person to come up missing. She went off to use the bathroom while he finished making the bed. She returned to find him stretched out, still in his crumpled suit, on top of the covers. She ruffled his hair and murmured, "Hey, before you fall asleep, it's your turn for the bathroom." He gave her a mock salute, slowly got up and trudged from the room. Mulder walked into the bathroom and groped around for the light. When he saw the condition of the room, he forgot for a moment that people actually lived there. The wall paper had loosened and partially peeled off in the humidity, hanging limply from the walls. The light flickered annoyingly and the toilet made noises and he hadn't even used it yet. Finally with a last surge of life, the light flickered and then went dead. "Oh, great." He went back out into the hallway, and tapped on the bedroom door. "Yeah?" replied a muffled voice. "I, uh, need a light bulb. The one in the bathroom burned out." He thought he heard giggles and some rustling of clothes, and then silence. Finally the door flew open, and Candy stood there in tee shirt and panties with a big smile on her face. "I'll get it for you." She wisked passed him and to the hall closet. "Could you get a chair from the kitchen?" With difficulty in the dark, he returned with the chair. "Candy?" "Right here." It was practically a whisper. She lit a candle. "Okay, let's get this light changed." The floor in the bathroom was as warped and uneven as in the rest of the house, giving the chair a dangerous wobble. Without giving it a thought, she climbed up and proceeded to change the light bulb. "So, Scorpy, do you believe me?" "About what?" "The alien abduction?" "Mmmm...well, I want to check out the town first before I make a, uh..." He didn't know how to tell her that he, like Scully, had his doubts. "It's okay. No one believes me. Voila. Flip on the light." She turned around and looked down into his eyes. "Mulder, I trust you. If you don't think it was aliens then I'll believe you." As she shifted her weight; the chair rocked and then slipped. Mulder quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, as she grabbed around his neck. The chair fell out of the way, unnoticed. They eyes met and locked, and Candy brought her lips down to meet Mulder's. Scully noticed that her partner had forgotten his shaving kit, and sighing, got up. She felt badly about how she had treated Mulder. It wasn't his fault he had won the coin toss for the seats in First Class. So she decided she would extend an olive branch to him. She felt for him. The Jeffords case had taken its toll, and she knew what guilt he must be having. Not so much for killing that sick, twisted man, but for the children he hadn't been able to save. "Mulder, I..." She stood in the doorway, holding the kit, with her mouth open. Mulder lowered Candy to the floor and she quickly slipped out the door and retreated into her bedroom. Mulder took the kit from Scully. "I thought you might need that," she said miserably. "Thanks, I did." They were both embarrassed. "Scully, the light. The chair." He pointed to the overturned chair on the floor and the dead light bulb on the sink. "No need to explain, Mulder. I'll be in bed when you get back." She disappeared. Part of him wanted to follow after her, explain what had happened. Then he thought better of it - it might be best to wait a few minutes. Maybe she would be asleep and this whole thing would blow over. - - - By the time Mulder got back, Scully had the lights off and was in bed. He couldn't tell whether or not she was asleep. Since he bumped his shin at least ten times trying to maneuver though the rearranged furniture to the hide-away bed, she was most likely awake. The buzz had long since worn off from the beer and Mulder was missing it. It had been a long time since he had just kicked back and enjoyed a drink. He listened to Scully's breathing, lulling him to sleep. Sounds from the bedroom forced his eyes open again. "Oh. Oh...Oh...Yes. Yes, right there! Oh, yes, YES! Just like that!... Oh God....Oh GOD!!!" Apparently Candy hadn't told Chris about the bathroom incident. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "Are you awake?" "Are you kidding? Who could sleep through THAT?" "You want to talk about it?" "About what?" "About what happened in the bathroom." Scully sat up in bed, too tense to sleep. She got up and pulled on some sweat pants over her shorts and rummaged through her suitcase for a light jacket and some shoes. "Where are you going?" "I'm going for a walk." Mulder got up and grabbed a jacket to put on with his sweat pants. He caught up with her by the car. He had the forethought to grab a flashlight from their suitcase before leaving the house. Without a word they started walking down the driveway and down the dirt road. "Scully, it was nothing." "What was?" "I know what you thought you saw. It was an accident. I don't want Candy. And she doesn't want me - not really." "Then what does she want?" He sighed. "She wants attention. She wants someone to believe her. Someone to believe that the people of this town were taken away by aliens." "That's it, isn't it? You believe her story, don't you?" "No. Yes. I don't know! I do know that you can't close your mind off to this. There is something going on. A supposedly migrant community, all white, all English speaking - educated English - all the same age, without children or the elderly, and with little or no interest in the crops that were their livelihood? You have to admit it's unlikely." "Mulder, just because they don't fit our stereotypical view of migrant workers doesn't mean it's the work of aliens." "Okay, how do you explain that fact that all the inhabitants were around the same age?" "Candy and Chris themselves said it wasn't a real sociable town. Perhaps they didn't see any old people because they weren't..." She paused looking for the right words. "Go ahead and say it. Because there weren't any to be seen." "No, I wasn't going to say that." Her eyes flashed angrily at him. "Maybe...maybe conditions here were too harsh here, maybe they sent the children and old people away, to someplace easier, not as rustic." "Or to the mother ship?" "Mulder, stop it. Just stop it. I refuse to turn in another report that has the word alien in it!" They stopped in the middle of the road, facing each other hotly. "Scully, please. Just listen to me. What if they were some experimental society, or maybe a control group of some kind. I don't know, but I have a feeling there is more to this than what Chris and Candy know." "I agree - there IS something going on here. But don't let her fill your head with some crazy ideas just because she believes them." "This has nothing to do with Candy. It's over between us, it has been for years. Please believe me." "I want to. I want to believe." She walked past him and back to the house, and Mulder followed disconsolately. Neither of them said a word. Exhausted, they crawled into bed. End of Chapter Two Chapter Three Monday, March 3 8 AM Scully woke with the hot Florida sun in her face. She tried to move to escape its rays, but the sun followed her with unerring accuracy. Instead of fighting it, she got up. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes, she glanced at Mulder, who was snoring softly. She stifled a giggle. In all the years she'd known him, she never knew he snored. She shuffled into the kitchen and looked around for coffee. Coffee, I must have coffee, she droned on in her mind. She didn't think Candy or Chris would mind if she made herself at home. She noticed an old percolator on the counter, and figured there had to be coffee somewhere. She opened up cupboards and found nothing. Not even the usual old cans of vegetables that no one likes, but someone bought anyway just because the bargain was just too good to pass up. She tried the freezer and found an old carton of frozen yogurt, crystalized. She was afraid to open the refrigerator. "Can I help you?" came from a voice from the doorway. "Oh, good morning, Chris. I'm looking for coffee." "Morning. Unfortunately, we don't have any. I prefer herbal tea and I've been breaking Candy from her coffee habit. If there's anyone that doesn't need the stimulation of caffeine, it's Candy." "You got that right," she replied drily. "I'm afraid Mulder and I won't be so easily broken, however. Is there any place we can get coffee?" "Well, I'll tell you what. I'll make you the strongest cup of herbal tea I can. It'll grow hair on your chest." She smiled. "Oh, great, just what I want - a hairy chest." "Candy and I will go to the market today. Why don't you make a list of things you want. And if we do pick up some coffee, you have to promise me that you'll take it with you when you leave." She made the Boy Scout salute. "Scout's honor. So is there anything for breakfast?" "Well, I dunno. The animals were taken, but I think there might be some eggs left in the fridge. How do you and Mulder like them?" "I prefer mine sunny side up... I don't think it matters to Mulder." "Okay. Scrambled eggs coming up." Scully went out into the living room with a cup of herbal tea for Mulder. He was still sleeping peacefully. She hated to wake him, but the sooner they got this investigation over with, the sooner they could get back to Skinner's original intent for their time off. "Mulder? Mulder, wake up." "Mmmph." She sat down on the hideabed and waited for him to come back to consciousness. "Morning. It isn't Starbucks, but it does have a kick to it." He scooted up on the bed, and took it cautiously. "What time is it?" He quizzed her in his sexiest morning voice. "Oh, about 8:30. Chris is making eggs. You hungry?" "Mmm. Where's Candy?" Scully tried to pretend she didn't hear that, but he repeated it again. She sighed. "Sleeping Beauty hasn't emerged yet. Chris got the pleasure of waking her." "Scully, I didn't mean it like that. I just wanted to know. There is nothing between us. Please believe me." He looked her in the eyes, but she glanced away. "Mulder, it's really none of my business. I don't care. Really, I don't. Now drink your tea, take your shower, and let's get this investigation over with. Okay?" "As you wish." ********* Candy and Chris had left for the nearest town which had all the rural amenities - a small grocery store, two liquor stores, three gun shops and a gas station - to stock up on food and other supplies. Mulder reasoned that since the other inhabitants of the town were gone, they wouldn't mind if he and Scully looked around. They took a methodical approach, starting with the nearest house to Candy and Chris's place. "This house belongs to Roy and Belle," read Scully from the notes she had jotted down over breakfast. "Do Roy and Belle have a last name?" "Chris and Candy didn't mention it." "Hold on." Mulder walked back to the end of the driveway and opened up the mailbox. Not only was it empty, the hinged door squeaked and the spider webs and other creepy crawlies in it made it doubtful it had been used in the recent past. He turned around and shrugged, and walked back. "Well, it was worth a shot. Evidently the townsfolk don't get much mail." He opened the door, "You first." "You take the bedroom and I'll look around here." Mulder nodded. She explored the kitchen and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The house wasn't in much better condition than Candy and Chris's. She was mildly surprised to find the refrigerator and cupboards completely stocked. Her eyes were drawn to a Maxwell House cannister in the fridge, and debated whether her caffeine withdrawal consituted enough of an emergency to commandeer it. Finally she decided that it was evidence and should be left where it was. The house was shabby, but extremely orderly and clean, except for a fine layer of dust. She walked through the living room, looking for anything that might help them learn what kind of people lived here and how they may have disappeared. But the house was devoid of anything personal - magazines or books, old photographs, letters or other personal papers, nothing to give a hint of the people who lived there. She heard Mulder coming. "Well, I can tell you Goldilocks hasn't been here yet." "Nothing here either. Did you find any photographs?" "Nope. There are a couple of old suitcases in the bedroom, I checked. My mother never kept our house this neat." "Mine either. Something else, Mulder. The kitchen is well stocked - cupboards and refrigerator full of food. You'd think if they had planned to go off somewhere permanently, that poor people like this would have cut down on their food supply, used up what they had. Maybe even bring the nonperishable stuff with them, wherever they went. Strange." She swept the room with her eyes one more time. "Okay, let's go to the next house." Both the agents walked silently down the road, taking in the scenery. "So what do you think?" asked Mulder. He knew it was too soon to make any kind of judgment but the silence was deafening between them. "I don't know. Maybe the whole town is part of some religious cult or something, and went off on a retreat." "We found no Bible, no religious tracts of any kind," he reminded her. "Well, it doesn't look to me like they plan to be gone long. The gas and lights are still on, water's still on, there's food in the kitchen. I think Candy and Chris just jumped the gun. Maybe the whole town takes an annual vacation together or something." "But their suitcases were still there," protested Mulder. "Maybe they bought new ones. Maybe they're... they're camping or something, and didn't bring them. Maybe they had better luggage and left the old stuff behind." "You don't know that." "You don't know that they didn't." They stopped in front of the neighboring house, "This - giving it the benefit of the doubt - home belongs to a Frank and Rae Jean Crampton. Would you care to check the mail box?" "No, I'll pass. I doubt there'd be much point. This time you get the bedroom." Mulder went into the kitchen and checked out the cupboards and refrigerator - fully stocked as though the inhabitants were just out for the day. He noticed they had a cannister of coffee on the counter. He debated half a minute on whether or not it would be ethical to take it, but decided he wouldn't dare break the rules with Scully around, especially in her present mood. He went through the living room but found precious few traces of "living." He did find several books on the southwest, many dealing with New Mexico and the Anasazi. His eyes narrowed in thought, then he shook his head. No, he was reading too much into it, he had to be. "So did you find anything?" asked Scully, emerging from the bedroom. "Some books on the Anasazi tribe of New Mexico. You?" "Nothing. Same as the other place. The Anasazi," she shuddered. "Please, I'd rather put that whole incident behind us." Mulder's shoulder spasmed in remembrance. "Yeah, me too." He put the books down and they left the house. At each of the remaining houses in the tiny town, they explored in vain for any clue as to how and why the inhabitants should suddenly disappear. Each house was devoid of character, of personality as if no one really lived there. No pictures, no photo albums, no memorabilia, no personal papers, no indication of family anywhere else. "Well, Mulder, are you satisfied?" Scully scanned the green fields behind the houses. "There's nothing here, nothing at all. These poor people will probably be back in a day or so and wonder who the hell's been going through their things." "And you don't think it's weird that we found nothing whatsoever of a personal nature in any of these homes?" "Unusual, yes, Mulder. Weird, no." She sighed as he rolled his eyes and looked upward, apparently pleading to the heavens to give him patience. She felt a flash of anger at his perfectly obvious assumption that she was just being annoyingly stubborn for the sake of disagreeing with him. She clamped down on her own impatience and tried to explain. "Mulder, I'm not just being pigheaded about this. Look, you won't find electric appliances and transistor radios and photographs in an Amish household, but it doesn't indicate that that there's anything supernatural going on. Or that if their house happens to be empty, that they've been beamed aboard the mother ship. I'll admit that things here are a bit strange. But people have the right to live the way they want, and divulge their plans to whomever they want. Or not divulge them." He smiled at her sheepishly. "Okay, point taken. Even what you didn't say - that Candy would be the LAST person most people would confide in. And I can accept that. But something's happened here, Scully. I can FEEL it." She nodded slowly, feeling for the first time since Candy and Chris had talked them into this escapade some recovery of the warmth that normally existed between them. Warmth that she had been sorely missing for the past twenty four hours. "Okay, Mulder. Let's say we give it another day. If we haven't turned up something definitive, something that we can both agree should be followed up by then, we leave. We'll make tracks to Daytona, or Sarasota, or Ft. Lauderdale or Clearwater Beach and soak up some rays, and our toughest chore will be deciding between a mai tai and a marguerita. Deal?" His lips parted in a rare smile. "I do believe you're coming on to me, Scully. How can I say no to a win-win proposition like that?" "Watch it," she said without rancor. "You could still end up on the floor tonight with the ants." "Duly noted, Agent Scully. What now?" "Well, hopefully, that's Chris's Jeep coming down the road. Maybe it means a real meal - with coffee." Mulder raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and saw a vehicle coming toward them, kicking up a trail of dust in its wake. "It passed Chris's house - and it doesn't look like a Jeep. Come on, this could be interesting." The car braked to a stop and they walked up to it as an officer was emerging. "Afternoon, folks. I don't suppose y'all could tell me what you're doin' here." Mulder looked at Scully, and they pulled the ID's from the back pockets of their jeans. "Agents Scully and Mulder, huh? Now what would the FBI want in a deserted backwater like this, I'd like to know." "And we'd be happy to tell you, Officer...?" "Sorry, ma'am. Officer Scott Kelley of the Sheriff's Department." "Well, Officer Kelley, we're here on an apparent fool's errand. Some friends of ours were staying here and said that one night all the people in town vanished...." As Scully spoke, Mulder studied the cop. He was about 45, short and stocky, with a broad face and twinkling brown eyes. Mulder figured him to be the kind that was affable in friendship, and as mean as hell in a fight. His uniform was stained with sweat and dust, the collar tight around his neck, the back of his shirt soaked through with perspiration. "...so you see, we're down here mostly on vacation - this is not an official Bureau matter, by any means - but we did agree to stop by Groveton just to allay their fears." The officer smiled and shook his head. "Well, what the hell have your friends been smokin', anyway? There hasn't been anyone livin' here for at least ten years that I know of." "When's the last time you were through this town, officer?" asked Mulder conversationally. "If y'all are suggestin' I don't come through here regular- like, well, then y'all'ud be right about that. I guess it's been a good year or maybe more since I last drove through. Ain't much call to - the damn town's not on a main road and bein' deserted, it ain't like anything ever happens here, right?" He laughed good-naturedly. "No, I guess not," agreed Mulder, returning his smile. "But what do you suppose the odds are of maybe a bunch of squatters taking up residence for a while?" "Now I suppose that could happen," Kelley said doubtfully. "I don't see why they'd want to, mind, but I suppose it's within the realm of possibility. You said your friends knew these people, talked with 'em and so on? Where would they be at right now?" "They drove into the next town some time ago to lay in some supplies," began Scully. "Wait! That must be them now." She gestured behind the squad car, to where Chris's Jeep could be seen approaching. Candy barely waited for Chris to stop before she was out the door and sprinting toward the squad car. "Have you come about the abductions? It's about time! I must have called every law enforcement department in the state of Florida, days ago. You're losing time, you need to start investigating - " "Hold on there now, little lady. Suppose we all go into the house and out of this sun, and I can take your statements down, official-like, okay? Then we'll figure out how to proceed. How will that be?" Candy flashed a dazzling smile. "Officer, that will be the best news I've heard in a long time." She looped her arm in his and led the way back to the house. Chris shugged sheepishly and followed. "Hurricane Candy strikes again," Scully muttered. "Aw, you're just pissed he didn't call you 'little lady'," her partner answered with a half-smile, striding off to follow the others while Scully stood open-mouthed, at a loss for an adequately scathing reply. She caught up with the others at the house. "Can I offer you some coffee, officer?" she asked hopefully. "No, ma'am, don't trouble yourself. Though I wouldn't say no to an iced tea, if there was one around. Now, little lady, about how many people lived here, would you say?" Scully poured iced tea and ground her teeth in frustration as Candy gave her statement. Officer Kelley seemed to be totally under her power - that is, until she gave her theory of what had happened to the townspeople. "Taken by ALIENS? Y'all aren't serious?" He looked around in astonishment at the others in the group. "That is Dr. McDermott's theory, Officer Kelley. A theory for which there is absolutely no evidence," Scully said firmly, looking at her partner for confirmation. Mulder nodded. "We don't know what happened here, officer. As we said, we just stopped down to see if there was any evidence of foul play, any clues as to why everybody would have disappeared so suddenly. We've just done a cursory investigation so far, but we haven't really come up with anything, one way or the other." Apparently mollified, Kelley nodded. "That's all right then. For a minute, I thought y'all were havin' some kind of joke at my expense. Okay sir, now you were here, too, I take it?" he said to Chris. "Y'all just sit yourself down and let me take your statement. And I don't want to hear the word 'alien' again - got that?" Chris gulped and sat. "Yessir." - - - - - It was almost two hours later that Officer Kelley had finally finished taking their statements and had walked through the little town, searching the houses. He drove away, promising to be in touch soon. The group watched until his car had travelled the length of the town headed toward the main road, then went back into the house. While Chris and Candy busied themselves in the kitchen, Scully pulled Mulder into the living room to talk. She plugged in the box fan, as much to create some 'white noise' as to try to move the hot, humid air in the little room. "So what did you think?" "Ladies first." "He seemed okay. I was impressed at how thorough his investigation was. I mean, he didn't take a long time, but he checked out everything that we did." "Yes, I was surprised at that myself," Mulder replied mildly. Scully looked at him suspiciously. "Okay, Mulder, what's up? What aren't you saying?" "Well, didn't he strike you as exactly what we'd expect from a rural cop? Complete with the 'y'all's' and the 'ma'am's' and the 'little lady's'?" "Mulder, why shouldn't he be exactly what we expect? He IS a rural cop. He's probably never been further away than Disney World in his entire life. What's wrong with that?" "Look, I know you think I'm just being paranoid again. But he never explained why he was driving through town - he clearly didn't expect to find us, or the story we told him. So what brought him to Groveton?" She shrugged. "I don't know - maybe he drives through once a year and this just happened to be the day. Or maybe he was looking for some place to take a nap." "Maybe," Mulder grunted, looking far from convinced. "I just think he laid on the whole 'Southern cop' routine a little thick." "You're probably hallucinating due to lack of food," Scully said, smiling. "Let's go and see if we can speed dinner along." "You might be right, at that." They went out to the kitchen, where the radio was playing in the background as Chris and Candy performed the intricate choreography of dinner preparations in a small space. Seeing that they would only be in the way, the partners sat themselves at the table and tried to ignore the nasal twanging of the country music station. "What would country music be without faithless spouses, dying mamas and unfair terms in the state pen?" Mulder wondered aloud drily. Scully flashed him a grin as the mournful ditty whined to a close and the news came on. "So what's on the menu for tonight, Chris? And can I help? Like make some coffee or something?" Her partner made a sudden shushing motion and she turned toward him. "Wh -" "Listen..." He turned up the volume. "... body of a Sheriff's Department officer was found by the side of State Road 18 twenty miles south of Sebring this afternoon. Officer Scott Kelley, 45, of Sebring was found by a passing motorist, his body partially hidden by brush and his cruiser missing. Cause of death was not immediately known. The Sheriff's Department is asking for any witnesses who may have been driving by the scene to give them a call at...." Candy looked puzzled. "Wasn't that the name of the officer who was here? How could he be dead - he just left!" Scully looked at Mulder, a chill crawling up her body in spite of the ninety degree heat. He met her eyes, his own face grim. "Still think there's nothing strange going on, Scully?" End of Chapter Three Chapter Four Monday, March 3 9 PM The news of the cop's death didn't do anything to ease the tension within the house. After a very quiet dinner, Candy and Chris went to bed early, as did the two FBI agents. Chris stood near the closet door. "Candy, I know how you feel about this, but I think we need to get out of here." He planned on packing now, so they could be on the road in the morning. If Mulder and Scully wanted to stay, that was fine with him, but he was going to get his fiancee and himself out of there. It was getting a little too weird for him. "Chris!" Candy was at a loss for words. She had seen him in these moods many times, and invariably, when he had made up his mind like this, there was no budging him. "We can't leave!" "And why not?" "What about Mulder and Scully? We brought them down here to check this out, we can't just leave them! And what about about our friends and neighbors? Don't we owe it to them to find out what happened to them? Maybe we can still do something to help them. Maybe, just maybe, they're counting on us to help them." He pulled the suitcase from the closet with more force than necessary. "That's it, I've had it. I've had it with your wacked-out theories! If you honestly believe all this crap, then you're a flake! Or maybe you just want an excuse to fuck your ex-boyfriend!" Candy's temper flared. She grabbed a book from the nightstand and hurled it at him. He ducked and it flew by him to thud into the back of the closet. "You bastard! Like you haven't thought about doing the same thing with that red headed bitch! Fine - then by all means let me pack for you!" She stormed to the closet, roughly shoving him away, and flung open the suitcase. She began pulling clothes off their hangers and tossing them in. "Me? You were the one making the moves on him in the bathroom. Oh, you didn't think I knew about that, did you?" he demanded, seeing her startled expression. "Well, if you were half the man Mulder is, then -" "Then what? WHAT? Look at him! He's obsessed with little green men! He thinks the government is out to kill him! He's fucking nuts. Maybe you two are meant to be together," he finished bitterly. "You son of a bitch!" She slapped him hard across the face. "Is that what you think of me? I put my career on hold for you. I followed you to Africa, for God's sake. I watched those children die. Then I followed you to this hell hole. And for what? To have you call me fucking NUTS?" This wasn't a new arguement for them. Candy loved Chris and Chris loved Candy more than anything in the world, but there were times when they just didn't like each other. This was one of those times. In the living room, the two agents looked at each other uncomfortably. They had both heard themselves referred to in the argument and felt guilty about eavesdropping. Finally, after the sound of yet another object smashing into a wall, Scully nervously asked, "Mulder, do you think we should go in there?" "Without my weapon, I don't think so. I know Candy when she's in one of those moods." "But someone might get hurt." "Fortunately, her aim stinks. Let Chris learn to duck - he might as well get used to it." "Then let's get out of here so we can talk. And that way we won't have to testify as witnesses at the assault trial." Mulder glanced at the closed bedroom door, nodded and grabbed his jacket. "Agreed. Let's get the hell out of here." They walked silently up the road for a hundred yards or more. "So Mulder, what do you think about the cop's murder?" "I don't know. But at least we know now that someone besides us has an interest in this place." "Yeah, but it's who that worries me." They walked a few more minutes. She tossed a glance at her partner, finding him lost in thought. Finally he asked, "Do you think I'm nuts, Scully?" "Pardon?" "Do you think I'm nuts, that I'm just being paranoid about the government being out to get me?" "Um, well.... Well, Mulder, I think, given all that we've seen and everything we've been through, I think that... um..." "You think I'm nuts." He snickered lightly. "Well, I mean, God knows you have every right to be paranoid, and clearly there are forces within the government who don't take too kindly to either one of us But on the other hand, you take some things to extremes." "For example?" "How about all the times you jump to 'supernatural' conclusions when there is a rational explanation available?" "That doesn't prove I'm paranoid or crazy - just that I'm right." She wasn't sure if it was humor or smugness in his voice. "But do you honestly believe that the government is behind these missing people?" "I never said the government was behind it." "No, you said that it was the work of aliens. That's not an improvement." "Scully, that's not fair. Candy was the one that said that, I just..." "Humored her? Played along? Mulder, you gave up a week's vacation to come to this swamp to find traces of alien abduction. Come on, admit it! That's what you're looking for. You have no real interest in these people or what happened to them. You just want to find proof. Because if aliens took these people, then it could have been aliens that took...." "My sister? That's what your going to say isn't it? You seem to think that all my motives are personal. Well, I'll tell you something, Agent Scully, I care very much what happened to these people. I was the one who wanted to come down here all along. You could've stayed home and toured the fucking Smithonian for all I cared. But you said you WANTED to come!" She bit back a retort. The truth was she could have backed out. She had tried to convince herself that she had to come to protect Mulder from himself, but the fact of the matter was she came to protect him from Candy. A purely personal motive of her own. She sighed forcefully. "Alright, Mulder. I'm sorry. I may have stepped over the line by saying you don't care. But we have a dead cop and no explanation as to why or where these people may have gone. This isn't just a simple thing anymore. We both have to admit there's something going on here, but there's no proof of alien involvement." Mulder surveyed her face, and calmed down as well. "I'm sorry, too." He paused. "Scully, I know what you're going to say, and believe me, you're right that I need a vacation. I need a break, I need to not think about things for a while. But there's something strange going on here and we both can feel it." He placed both his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eye. "Let's keep looking. It was no accident that cop showed up dead. What are the odds that he tours this area once in a blue moon, and dies today? You were the one that taught me there were no such thing as coincidences." "Okay. Tomorrow I'll call the Bureau and try to get some information on this town, and contact the local authorities to find out what they've learned about Kelley's murder." They began strolling back to the house. "While you're doing that, I'll take another look around. Maybe the crops have something to do with this. It might be a cover for illegal spraying or something - maybe everyone who lived here got sick from some sort of experimental pesticide use. Oh, and Scully. One more thing." "Yes, Mulder?" "I'm glad you're here, and not touring the Smithsonian." - - - - - Groveton Tuesday, March 4 10 AM Scully was at the kitchen table with her cell phone to her ear, jotting down notes when Chris walked into the room. She looked up and saw the livid mark on his cheek. "Yes, thank you." She switched off her cell phone. "Chris, your face." If Chris looked like this after the argument, she wondered what Candy looked like, then dismissed the thought. She didn't believe he was capable of hurting a woman. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." "You should put some ice on it." She went to the freezer, pulled out an ice tray and in seconds had an ice pack made. "Here - put this on it." "I think it's too late for ice. Really, don't worry," he said, flushing. "You sound like Mulder. Put it on - it will help. Uh, you didn't, by any chance...." "Oh God, no! Dana, believe me, I would never hit a woman under any circumstances. Candy and I love each other, but sometimes, she's just so damn difficult to deal with. She gets these ideas, crazy ideas, and nothing can shake them loose...." She knelt down to where Chris was sitting and put her hand on his arm. "Chris, believe me, you have no idea how I understand. I guess all we can do is just love them, in spite of it." "You love Mulder?" "Did I say that?" She blushed, and used her best all- business tone. "Well, I mean in a partner-relationship sort of way, of course." "Of course," Chris said drily. "So where is he?" "He wanted to go check out the crops. He has a theory that maybe they're part of the reason the people disappeared. It is possible that there may have been illegal spraying or something and he wanted to go check on it." "Dana, I would know if illegal spraying had been going on. That wasn't it. I told you, the people weren't really concerned about their crops at all. Which I thought was odd, but then again, the more I think about it, everything about this place is odd." "When he gets back we're all going to have to sit down and decide what we need to do. Personally I think we need to get out of here. Mulder needs a rest; to tell the truth, so do I. Our last case was horrific, and last night he had another nightmare because of it. Now you and Candy are fighting because of it. I think we need to evaluate this whole situation." "Oh, don't worry about Candy and me. We don't need a whole town to disappear to cause us to fight," he replied with a grin. He stood up. "Maybe I'll go out and try to catch up with him, tell him his illegal spraying theory is a no-go." "Fine. Just remember, whatever new theory he comes up with you'll probably like even less than that one." He chuckled. "That doesn't surprise me." - - - - - Mulder walked down rows of thigh-high corn plants. So far, nothing about the crops seemed extraordinary. And if illegal pesticides were being used, they sure as hell weren't doing their job, he thought darkly, swatting another large bug from his jeans. In the distance by some sort of shed or outbuilding, he could see some dark vegetation, some of which was protected by veils of cloth. He strolled over to the field, inhaling the sweet, almost overwhelming scent of the citrus groves in full bloom. His brows knit into a frown as he got closer. Something about the field, about the cheesecloth shades placed over some of the rows of dark leaves, set alarms ringing in his head. As his ears picked up the hum of bees, everything snapped into place. Ginseng - these were ginseng fields. Now why the hell would these people be growing something esoteric like ginseng? Squatting down, he picked a leaf and examined it closely. Then, curious, he rose and advanced toward the outbuilding. It was bigger than it had looked from the corn fields. It was also locked - here in Groveton, where nothing else had been locked. Heart racing, Mulder picked up a flattened bit of pipe and set to work on the lock. The lock itself was strong and of excellent quality, but the wood from which the building was made was in the same state of rot as the others in town. The lock was pried off in seconds. He cautiously opened the door and peered in, then stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him. The building obviously served as their utility shed. Dusty light let in by the one small window dimly illuminated tools hung from pegboards nailed to the walls, and bags of seed standing in the corner. It reminded him of his mother's garden shed behind their house on the Vineyard. Suddenly, like an unwanted intruder, more painful memories of the shed rushed back to him - memories of his father, and the beatings meted out there. Ignoring the feeling in his gut that was telling him to leave, he explored the structure. Nothing about its contents seemed out of place or unusual. He stepped back outside, taking a good look at the building as he walked its perimeter. Suddenly, he realized what made him uncomfortable - it struck him that the building appeared much larger on the outside than the inside. He went back in and began knocking on the walls, finally rewarded when his knock rang out hollowly. His fingers felt for cracks that might indicate a door, sighing in frustration when he came up empty. Feeling a little silly, he moved to the assortment of implements nearby, pushing and prodding them to see if they might be the key to unlocking the secret passage. I've definitely been watching too many late night horror movies, he thought. He pushed and pulled, but to no avail. Then he stepped back, wondering if seeing the wall from a distance might show him something that closer inspection hadn't. As he did so, one of the floor boards gave way and he fell hard on his back. His mouth gaped, as a door there was no sign of seconds previously popped open. Mulder scrambled to his feet and burst through the door into a very dark room. He felt along the wall for a light switch but, not unexpectedly, didn't find one. He reached into his pocket and found a book of matches. Lighting one, he peered around him and caught sight of a string hanging from a fixture in the low ceiling. He pulled on it and weak light flooded the room. "Jesus Christ," he gasped. "I'm in Command Central." There were maps along the wall, dotted with little red flags. Computer terminals and journals lay on the rough wooden shelf that lined the perimeter of the room. Flipping through the pages of records, he noted columns of mathmatical formulae, notes in barely legible handwriting and other notes that appeared to be in some kind of foreign script. Pocketing some of the pages of formula, he looked down and noticed a trap door on the floor. Pulling the metal ring, he raised the door, only slightly surprised by the glow of greenish light emitted from below. Heart pounding, he descended the stairs into the cellar, pulling the trapdoor shut behind him. He found himself in a room that looked like it belonged in a hospital or lab instead of a migrant farming community. With a feeling of deja vu, he found a light switch on the wall and pressed it. Like the room above, the walls were covered by maps, with color coded pins scattered over their length and breadth. Two very familiar looking tanks took up much of the floor space. He grabbed the tail of his shirt, wiped the condensation off the side and peered in. Both tanks held a male body submerged in green liquid. But unlike the other clones he had run into, these weren't carbon copies. They had unique features. Catching sight of a bulletin board on the wall, he approached it. It was covered in photographs of men and women. Although none was a copy of the other, the people nevertheless had a certain similarity about them, as if they were all part of one huge family. Then, the more he studied the photos, the more he recognized that Woman A had the same shaped nose as Man B, and Man B had the same eye color and shape as Man C. Finally, the significance of what he was seeing rocked him. "My God. They perfected cloning," he breathed. He stuffed some of the pictures from the bulletin board into this pocket. It was possible that Chris or Candy would recognize them as some of the missing inhabitants of Groveton. He walked around the room a few times, scanning the walls, memorizing the maps and trying to pull together a theory about their significance. Suddenly, he heard voices upstairs. Apparently searching for someone or something, the voices had an unpleasant military tone to them. Mulder quickly turned off the light and slumped down behind the second tank so he could see, hopefully without being seen. "Sir, we searched the perimeter." "Did you find him, Sergeant?" "No, sir." "Search the town, and if you don't find him, take that couple that lives on the outskirts of town in for questioning." "Yes, sir." Mulder's first thought was of Scully. He looked around desperately for a way out, but with a sinking feeling, knew that there was only one way - a way not available at the moment. The voices upstairs fell to murmurs, and for a fleeting moment, he hoped that they had failed to spot the trapdoor and had moved on...anything that would give him the chance to get out of this damned place and get to Scully. He had no sooner finished the thought when the trapdoor flew open, closely followed by the thud of boots on the wooden steps to the cellar. Before he could react, two soldiers with very bright flashlights were standing next to him, with M80's pointed at his face. "Who are you?" Mulder just shrugged and shook his head, as if he didn't know English. The other trooper grabbed him and pushed him up the stairs. "We found him." "Excellent," purred the Captain. "Go tell the other troops to assemble at the basecamp." "Yes, sir." "Well, Mr. Mulder. You're a hard man to track down." "I'm in the book." The trooper holding Mulder jabbed his gun in small of his back. "Ow!" "Sergeant, take Agent Mulder here to back to camp. And remember, he is a Federal Agent with highly placed friends, and I expect you to treat him as such." The trooper nodded and slammed the butt of his rifle into the side of Mulder's head. - - - - - Making his way through the orange grove, Chris thought he heard the motor of a truck. He stopped to listen more closely, then shook his head. Christ, I'm getting as flaky as Candy, he thought. They had to get out of here. Maybe it was worth swallowing his pride and promising the Red Cross he'd behave from now on. Once he got his job back, they could move to someplace where Candy could do her research at the nearest university. She had to be going out of her mind with boredom. No wonder she had fastened on to this little fantasy about alien abductions. And getting her involved in her career again couldn't help but improve their relationship. He felt his blood pulse as he indulged in a few fantasies of his own. Perhaps that was why he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. End of Chapter Four Chapter Five Groveton, Florida Tuesday, March 4 Noon Candy looked less than her usual luminously beautiful self when she finally emerged from the bedroom. Sighing, Scully stabbed the off button of her cellular phone and headed straight for the coffee pot. "Morning. You look like you could use some coffee." "Thanks, Dana. I usually don't, but today I'll make an exception. Where's Chris?" "He went out a couple of hours ago, trying to catch up with Mulder. I expected them both back by now." Candy toyed with some flatware on the kitchen counter, avoiding Scully's eyes. "I suppose you heard...last night." "It was hard not to," she said drily. "If it's any comfort to you, Mulder and I went for a walk. When we got back, it was quiet. We were just hoping you two hadn't killed each other." She handed the woman a mug, took her own and the two sat themselves at the table. Please don't, thought Scully. Please don't involve me in this, please don't want to have a woman-to- woman discussion of yours and Chris's personal problems, please don't - "Oh, Dana, what am I going to do?" Candy wailed. Shit. "Well.. uh, Candy...I'm not really the person you should be discussing this with," she began uncomfortably. "You're JUST the person, Dana! You're so cool and level-headed. Chris thinks I'm a flake." "Well, I'm sure that there's aspects of that that he finds charming, too," she countered weakly. "He called me fucking nuts, did you know that?" "Uh...actually, yes.... We were there for that part." "You don't think Mulder's nuts, do you?" she demanded. "Nuts? No." After last night's discussion with Mulder, she had spent some time thinking about the subject. "He's brilliant and his mind may not work quite the same way mine does, but no, I wouldn't call him nuts." "See? That's what I - " "What I would call him is gullible." "Oh." Candy's argument was deflated in an instant. "Sometimes Mulder just wants so much to believe in the supernatural - because it will answer questions that don't seem to have an answer - that he doesn't fully investigate all the rational alternatives. He jumps to the conclusion that paranormal forces were involved. And admittedly, sometimes there isn't a rational answer that we can find. But that doesn't mean that there isn't one; it only means that we haven't found it. And sometimes - rarely - it does seem like the paranormal might be involved. But Mulder's just a little too ready to believe. And he thinks I'm not ready enough. We agree to disagree, and balance each other out." The woman considered Scully's words. "So what do you think happened here?" "I honestly don't know. Something's going on. But I'm not convinced that we're the right people to be investigating it, or that the investigation needs to be continued from here in Groveton. We may well have gotten all the information we're going to get from here." Candy was about to debate the point, but stopped when she heard the pounding of running feet. Chris came flying through the door seconds later. She sprang from her seat and went to him, her arms open. "Oh, Chris! I'm so sorry about last night. I -" He took a startled step backwards. "There's no time for that now. We have to leave - fast!" "Leave?" Candy asked, puzzled. "We can't leave, Mulder's out there - " "Dana, come on. Into the Jeep. Now!" "Far be it for me to agree with Candy, but she's right. Mulder's out there investigating, and should be back any - " "That's the point!" Chris yelled, exasperated. "Mulder's been taken by some guys in uniform! They're on their way here. We have maybe two minutes to get the hell out of here. Now come on!" Still, the women hesitated. "Look, I'm not suggesting we abandon him," Chris continued, more gently but no less urgently. "But he's not in Groveton anymore, in any case. They drove off with him in a truck. We'll figure out a way to get him, but we need to get out of here first. If they get us, they'll find a way to use us against him. We're wasting time we don't have. Let's move!" Reluctantly, Scully grabbed the cell phone and their overnight bags. "He's right, Candy. Let's go." - - - - - They had just creaked to a stop at the base camp when Mulder was unceremoniously pushed out of the back of the truck. He supposed he should be grateful for the ride, they could have made him walk. They were miles from any town, from anything at all familiar, and surrounded by unbroken lush Florida greenery. He wished he knew how long he had been unconscious - it might give him an idea of how long they had been travelling, how far away he was from Groveton, and Scully. He struggled to get up off his face, spitting the dirt out of his mouth. One of the guards lifted him up by his handcuffed arms. Peering around and trying to ignore the pulsing pain in his head, he tried to get a sense of the camp. Camouflage tents were arranged in a horseshoe, with a large, makeshift wooden building in the center serving as HQ. A rifle barrel prodded him in the back, propelling him in the direction of the building. He and his captors traversed the main room without notice from the soldiers bent over their electronic monitoring equipment. He was led down a hallway to a small room, which looked like a typical interrogation room. In the center was one chair and a table. The only thing missing, Mulder reflected absently, was the mirror, which everyone with a functioning brain stem knew was not a mirror at all, but a window for others to observe the interrogation through. One of the soldiers shoved him into the chair and stood looming over him claustrophobically. This certainly wasn't the first time Fox Mulder had found himself at the answering end of an interrogation. He knew the drill and he knew his interrogator did too, so he had to play the waiting game. 'Let's make em sweat' was an old B movie trick, but it was working right now. He knew that something was amiss in Groveton, and discovering that room in the shed had only confirmed his suspicions of alien involvement. He had found the proof he needed. Unfortunately, Scully hadn't been there to see it, and it would probably be gone by the time she went looking for him. Time was ticking away. He hoped that while his captors played their waiting game, Scully would keep out of the way of these goons and figure out where he was. In the meantime, he studied his surroundings, looking for an escape route. The room had that new smell of paint and wood, and the lack of dry rot led him to believe that these people couldn't have been here long. He didn't notice any power lines so they must have brought a generator. The electronic equipment puzzled him. What were they listening for? The last time he saw this much activity in the middle of nowhere was when he had met Max Fenig. Downed Libian jet, my ass, he thought. The commander came in carrying some papers. He was an older-looking man, perhaps in his late fifties. He probably didn't exist on any government payroll, and wouldn't be missed if he disappeared himself. But Mulder knew, just by the way the officer looked at him, that he wasn't someone to trifle with. "Search him," the commander ordered the guard. While the man pulled his ID, the photographs and the pages of formula from his pockets, the officer studied the fax. "Special Agent Fox Mulder." He looked away from the fax to his captive. "Oxford education. Top of your class. Spooky behavior. The X-files." It was more like a grocery list he was reading than, some secret government dossier. "Does it mention I like long walks on the beach, quiet dinners for two, and - " His teeth rattled from the force with which the officer slapped him across the face. Obviously he doesn't share my sense of humor, Mulder mused painfully. "What does the FBI want down here?" He was about to make another smart remark, but the sudden ache in his back molar convinced him otherwise. "I wasn't sent by the Bureau. I'm here on vacation." "Vacation? Really? "Yes, really," he mimicked. He regretted it the moment it escaped his lips, but the commander just smirked. "You know what I want and I'm not interested in hearing your tourist stories. What do you know about Groveton?" "Groveton? You mean Groveton, Florida?" He braced himself for the blow that didn't come. The fact that it didn't was curiously unsettling. "You're vacationing and you don't even know where you are? Maybe your partner does." "Oh, no, I'm sure she doesn't." "Why is that?" "She's worse at directions I am." That one earned him a stinging slap across the ear. "Why were you in that shed?" "I needed some gardening tools?" Again, the heart- pounding wait for the blow that didn't happen. "But you're on vacation, why would you be gardening?" The commander noted with satisfaction the confusion that flashed across his captive's face. He well knew that Mulder had been in this situation before, and that his psychological profile showed that no amount of beating would get the desired information out of him. But a schizoid interrogation, a constant change of direction in both the questions asked and the response Mulder's answers earned would unsettle the agent, confuse him. By playing this mental game he would eventually get more answers than by beating his prisoner unconscious - at least that's what the guys in G-2 had said. "Mr. Mulder, why would you need a gardening tool? What implement were you getting?" Mulder was puzzled, unable to figure out what the commander was accomplishing with this line of questioning. What the hell did it matter, what garden tool he was getting? His mind went blank. Finally he said, "A hoe" "A hoe?" "Yeah, a hoe." "All right, why?" "To do some hoeing?" Maybe if he hadn't said it in the form of a question he wouldn't be tasting blood right now. "Why is the FBI in Groveton? Where are the people?" "What people? The town is deserted. My partner and I are down here visiting old friends. They're the only ones in town." "Ah, yes. Killer tornadoes in South Dakota, isn't that where you met them? I seem to remember your name connected with some story about killer tornadoes created by the military as a weapon for world-wide domination. Really, you give us too much credit. I must say you're an imaginative fellow. Why not use that Oxford-educated mind a little and tell me where the townspeople of Groveton are?" Before Mulder could say something he would probably regret, the commander lifted a cautionary finger. "And think carefully before answering. I don't give extra credit for originality." Mulder felt like he was on a game show and a scantily clad girl would come through the door an moment with his year's supply of Instant Cup O' Soups. He took a big breath and braced himself for whatever reprisals this man had in store for him. No answer was going to be right, so why not tell him the truth? "Aliens took them." "Aliens took them? Little green men came from outer space and beamed them aboard and took a town full people to the mothership? Why, to eat them?" Images from the Jeffords case flashed though his mind. Jeffords did many unspeakable things to those victims, including eating parts of them. Body parts in freezer bags nicely labeled like holiday leftovers. Mutilated bodies in various states of decay. For a moment he thought he could smell the stench of rotting flesh. The flash of horror and revulsion must have shown on his face. "Ah, yes. The Jeffords case. That was a tough one. It's hard to imagine that human beings are capable of such violence." A wave of unease washed over Mulder. How did this man know about that case? The commander was standing over him with a look of concern on his face. This puzzled him even more. Why would this man be concerned, when he would most likely end up ordering his execution for being on "vacation." "What was that?" "Vacation. I'm on vacation." "Agent Mulder, perhaps we should talk when you're a little better composed. I'm sure a few moments to yourself would do you wonders." And thousands of dollars worth of therapy wouldn't hurt, thought Mulder, dazed. "I can always talk to your friends. Do you want us to talk to them?" "No." Mulder stared at him in defiance. "Then just tell us what you know and I'll let you have some time alone." "I don't know anything," he insisted. "I'm here on vacation with my partner." "With your PARTNER? The FBI must have had a recent rule change about that sort of thing." He made a suggestive gesture with his hands, to the amusement of the guards. "You son of a bitch!" Mulder struggled to get out of the chair, but a pair of hands clamped down on his shoulders, pinning him to it. "Agent Mulder, I want to know what you know. Who were those people in those tanks?" "You tell me." The testosterone level was getting dangerously high in the room. "Don't play games with me. Where are the people of Groveton? I know you know. Tell me! Tell me!" "I don't know! I'm on vacation..." "Oh, that's right, you're on vacation in a town in the middle of nowhere with absolutely nothing to commend it. Bullshit! Now, what was that building you were found in? What purpose did it serve?" "This is pointless," Mulder replied firmly. "You know more about what's going on around here than I do." "Oh do I? So tell me. Tell me what it is I supposedly know." "You....you...." Mulder hesitated, and suddenly, like a sailboat emerging from a fogbank, his mind cleared. Obviously they didn't know anything, otherwise why would these drones be questioning him. If it were merely a matter of finding out how many of their secrets he had tapped, he'd already be dead. These idiots really didn't know anything, and were depending on him for leads. He had to buy some time. He hoped that Scully would be able to find him. That she would figure it out. Meanwhile, two could play at this insane game. "I what? What is it? What about me?" "You know as much as I do. They were your people in that tank." "My people. Who are 'my people'?" "The ones that think it's okay to rewrite history because they don't like the color of someone's suit! It's obvious that there is a conspiracy here and since you work for the Special Committee in Charge of Government Conspiracy, I suggest you check with your boss. That is if you can find him. I'll give you a tip - he'll be the one in the smoking section." The guard behind him shoved him to the floor. Before he knew what hit him, he had a size 12 pressing on his throat. So much for psychological profiles, the commander thought darkly. Sometimes it paid to stick to the old fashioned ways of doing things. He grabbed a fistful of Mulder's hair and yanked upward, lifting his head off the floor and putting more pressure on the agent's throat. He leaned into Mulder's face. "Don't mock me. Be warned, I'll do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this. I want to know where the people of Groveton went, and you ARE going to tell me." The commander left the room. The guard removed his foot and watched the FBI agent struggle for breath on the floor. He had his orders. He picked the hapless agent up by his neck and threw him against the wall. Mulder felt like he had been hit by a semi. The guard must have been a tackle for the Packers. He was too strong to be a normal human. He struggled, but the guard scooped him up like a rag doll once more and tossed him across the interrogation room, slamming him into the opposite wall. He heard a loud pop, accompanied by a sickening lance of pain through his right shoulder. The makeshift building of drywall shook every time he made contact. He saw the guard coming at him again, but instead of trying to get away, he prepared to fight back. Just as the herculian guard got close, Mulder wrapped his legs around those of his tormenter, causing him to fall. Mulder scrambled the best he could to his feet and started for the door. His last conscious thought was that he might even make it. - - - - - They drove all the way into Sebring, not daring to stop at the first few motels they passed, since these would be the first places Mulder's captors would search. Candy sat stunned and speechless next to Chris, for which Scully was profoundly grateful. Meanwhile, in the back seat Scully had been thinking furiously, her only weapon against the feeling of dread that threatened to overpower her. "What did their uniforms looks like, Chris?" "All black. They had the usual insignia for rank, but other than that they were unfamiliar. I couldn't even get handle on what branch of the service they were." "How many?" "A small squad - no more than ten or so. But there's probably more of them somewhere." Scully thought for a moment. "Where was Mulder when he was taken?" "Just some shed in one of the fields. It didn't look like anything special." Chris finally stopped the jeep on the outskirts of Sebring furthest from Groveton. On a back road, far from the areas more likely to host visitors, they found a little ramshackle motel composed of a wide ring of freestanding cabins, shaded by trees. He exited the motel office a few minutes later, a key dangling from his hand. "Number thirteen." That figures, thought Scully grimly. Consistent with the run of luck we've had so far. The Jeep rolled slowly over the gravel to the two most remote cabins, stopping in front of one of them. Chris handed the key to Candy. "Go on in. I'll just get the bags." She slid out of her seat, and let Scully out. Then she went to the door of the cabin and opened it, stepping inside. Scully heard the rasp of intaken breath, Candy's strangled "Wh-what?" She shoved the paralyzed woman aside, reaching for her weapon simultaneously. Then she froze. There, lying sprawled on the bed, was Chris. End of Chapter Five Chapter Six Sebring, Florida Tuesday, March 4 2:30 PM "What the hell...?" Scully stared dazedly at Chris's form stirring on the bed, automatically raising the muzzle of her gun to the ceiling and sliding on the safety. But if this was Chris, then who - She whirled and dashed out the door. The Jeep was backing away from the cabin at high speed. Then, spinning in a spray of gravel, it tore out onto the road and was lost from sight in seconds. But not before she had glimpsed the huge, bulky, and frighteningly familiar shape of the driver. Holstering her weapon, she went back into the cabin, where Candy was fussing over Chris. Suddenly Scully felt drained, too tapped out to deal with the woman's histrionics. "If you want to do something useful, Candy, walk down to the motel office and rent me the cabin next to this one. I've had enough togetherness for one trip." The blonde snapped upright, a look of startled outrage on her face. "I can't do that - Chris needs me!" "Just do it. I'm a medical doctor, remember? At the moment, he needs me more. And I need to think, which I can't do with you emoting all over the place. Now please, just do as I asked." Candy looked down at Chris, who nodded. Furious, she grabbed her purse and flounced out of the cabin. "Okay Chris, where does it hurt?" she asked tiredly. "Actually, it doesn't. I feel fine," he replied, surprised himself. "One minute I was walking through the groves, trying to find Mulder, and the next minute I was waking up here, and you were pointing your gun at me. Where the hell am I, anyway?" "In Sebring, at the Palm Garden Motor Court." She performed a cursory neuro exam as she spoke. "Vision clear? Headache or dizziness? Everything move okay? What day is it?" "Um...yes, no, yes, and Tuesday, March fourth, right? What happened to me?" She sprawled in the chair next to the bed, her head back and her eyes closed. "I think what's more to the point is what didn't happen." She rolled her head to look at him. "You could have - maybe should have - ended up like that cop, Scott Kelley." "But he's dead!" "Precisely." "But - " She closed her eyes again. "Chris, just shut up and let me think, okay?" "Okay," he replied passively. He swung his legs over the side of the bed experimentally and got to his feet. "I - um... I'll just go and meet Candy and move your stuff next door." "Fine. Whatever." The door closed behind him and Scully breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden silence. She let her mind go blank for several minutes, relishing the quiet. But inexorably, her thoughts returned to the case. Today's events just prompted more questions, not the least of which was where her partner was and why he had been taken. She shook her head. Only Mulder could find this much trouble in so sleepy a setting. The crunch of approaching footsteps in the gravel darkened her thoughts. Only Mulder or his friends. Reluctantly she got to her feet and went outside. Chris and Candy were just exiting the neighboring cabin. "You're all set up in there, Dana," he said tentatively. "Thanks, Chris. And I'm sorry I snapped at you before. I'm just worried about Mulder." Unfortunately, Chris's sensitivity was lost on Candy. "Dana, how could Chris be in two places at once?" she demanded. "I mean, this is really BIZARRE! And who kidnapped Scorpy?" It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. She lost it. "Look. Mulder may not have the heart to tell you, but I don't have that problem. He HATES that name," Scully said pointedly. "Besides which, his birthday is October 13th. If you bothered to consult any astrological chart, you would know that makes him a Libra, not a Scorpio. But somehow, I don't think he'd take any more kindly to your calling him "Libby". So just drop it. Got it?" The tall, statuesque blonde looked hurt. "What did *I* do?" she exclaimed plaintively to Chris. Scully closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Nothing. Look, I know you both must have a lot of questions, but right now, I have a crashing headache. Give me an hour to take some aspirin, shower and collect my thoughts. Then I'll explain what I think is going on. All right? I'm sure you can keep each other amused for an hour," she added waspishly. She strode into her cabin and firmly closed the door. Scully knew she was being a bitch, but at the moment, she simply didn't care. She was tired, sick to death of Candy and Company, and frantic about Mulder. God only knew what condition he'd be in by the time she found him. Some vacation this was turning out to be, she thought grimly, killing a centipede in the shower stall. It would probably end up being another of Mulder's patented "ICU Getaways" - if he were lucky. She turned the faucet full on, pleasantly surprised that the shower worked and the water was actually hot. Lathering her hair, she tried to focus on the case, but hit a wall every time she thought about Mulder. She had no earthly idea where he might be right now. Why couldn't they just have taken the much-needed week of vacation? Gone to some place boring and quiet and peaceful, lapping up sun and margueritas? Now Mulder had gone and gotten into a jam - again - and God knew if she could pull off another miracle in getting him out of it. Angry tears stung her eyes. She rinsed the soap from her body and turned off the taps. Wrapping herself as securely as possible in the skimpy motel towel, she went into the bedroom and turned on the ancient air conditioner. The hum and clunk of the the machine was almost reassuring that it might actually cool the room. She spilled two aspirin into her palm from the bottle in her purse, thought about Candy, and added a third. Then she swallowed them with the metallic-tasting tap water, lay down on the bed and closed her eyes while waiting for the analgesic to work. She must have fallen asleep, because the room was comfortably dim when she opened her eyes. She glanced at her watch and groaned. Nearly six. Hurriedly, she dressed and headed next door, startled to find a late model compact car parked outside Number Thirteen. Tapping at the door, she went in at Chris's call to enter. The lights were on, but the bedclothes, not unexpectedly, were severely rumpled. Evidently the lovebirds had found a way to kiss and make up after their argument of the night before. "Hope you like Chinese," Chris said. "Take a seat and help yourself." Her headache gone and having had some sleep, Scully was surprised to find how hungry she was. She joined the pair at the tiny dining table and began to help herself from the numerous cardboard cartons. "Whose car is that?" she asked. "Ours," said Candy proudly. "After we... I mean, after you didn't come back, we decided we would be needing some transportation, so I got the proprietor to give us a ride to the nearest car rental agency. We picked up the food on the way back." "We also stopped at the police station and filed a stolen vehicle report," added Chris. He laughed at Scully's sudden expression of consternation. "Don't worry, we didn't get real specific. If I can't explain to myself what's happened, I'm sure as hell not about to try to explain it to some cop. I just told him someone took it from here this afternoon, and said I didn't see who did it. Which I didn't. But you did, didn't you?" She wrapped up some Mu Shu pork in a pancake. "Yeah, I guess I did. I don't want to believe it was who I think it was, but in a way it would fit with everything else." She glanced up at her companions. Candy looked as if she were about to burst with curiosity any second, and Chris was clearly intrigued. "Okay," she sighed. "I'll put you out of your misery. But trust me, Chris - you're not going to like what I have to say." She took a deep breath and dived in. "The, uh...person who stole your Jeep is someone that Mulder and I have run into a couple of times before. Both times were in relation to the existence of, uh...clones." "What - you mean like those sheep in Scotland?" exclaimed Candy. "Well, sort of," Scully answered uncomfortably. "But these were clones of people, except... they weren't ...exactly ...human." Chris laughed nervously. "Wait a minute, Dana. I've been spending too much time with your partner. I thought you said these were clones of people, but they weren't human." "I did." "Well, if they weren't human, what the hell were they?" Scully rubbed her temples. This was more difficult than she had anticipated. She had consciously avoided dwelling on some of the stranger events she had witnessed during her tenure with the XFiles. The strain they put on her belief in rationality, in order, in science, did not bear thinking about. Coming from her partner, they could be dismissed by others as just more of 'Spooky' Mulder's ravings. But somehow, coming from her lips put a stamp of legitimacy on the story that she was extremely uncomfortable with. Now, under Chris's frankly incredulous glare, she felt renewed admiration for the courage Mulder showed every time he testified to the truth of their experiences. Her heart constricted painfully at the thought of her partner, and she wished more than ever that he were by her side. "Uh, I don't really know what they were. They looked and acted human, but... they, uh... they had this weird green fluid instead of blood, which was toxic to humans. It contained some sort of retrovirus, and.... Anyway, the clones are beside the point, we were talking about who stole your Jeep. He... it.... Oh, God, this is difficult...." "He's an alien, isn't he?" asked Candy triumphantly. "I... I don't know. Mulder believes so, I think. But the one incontrovertible fact is that he... it... appears to have the ability to..." her voice dwindled to a whisper. "Sorry. I didn't quite catch that," said Chris. She cleared her throat. "Shapeshift. He can make himself change into other people." She looked into Chris's stunned face. "I know, Chris. I would feel the same way. But I happen to have seen this guy do it. That's why I said you were lucky. Often, it seems that those he 'becomes' are people he has killed. Evidently it's not a necessary part of the process - he shapeshifted into Mulder once, and he's still alive" - please, God - "but there are others he has killed. Like Scott Kelley." "This is crazy! You can't seriously expect me to believe this!" She shrugged. "I know," she repeated. "But you wanted an explanation about how you could be in two places at once, and how Officer Kelley could be with us and also lying in some morgue. Now you've got it." "Yeah. But I wish I didn't." - - - - - Somewhere in Florida Wednesday, March 5 6:30 AM Mulder woke to a sweet-salty taste in his mouth. The last thing he remembered was a wall coming at him. His left eye was swollen shut and blood had caked his hair to the pillow. His right shoulder was on fire, but it was nothing to the stabbing and pounding pain in his head. His mind flashed to a time when a school friend of his thought he was Superman and tried to fly down some stairs, only to knock himself unconscious. He wondered what ever happened to John Nilsen.... "Fox, I'm not going to tell you again!" warned his father. "D-Dad?" But there was no one in the small room to answer him. He tried to focus; as near as he could tell he was in the interrogation room. Absently, he wondered what was more damaged - him or the walls. He tried to lie quietly, hoping that would make the stabbing pain at the very least lessen. The puzzle of those missing people was slowly coming together in his mind. He had seen all that he needed - he just hoped some of that evidence still existed. The others - he knew he had to warn Candy, Chris and Scully. Oh God... Scully. I'm so sorry. Scully. You're going to be so pissed. I promised you a vacation. "WHY DON'T YOU EVER LISTEN?!" screamed Scully's voice. "Aaghh" The screaming in his head made his temples pound. He lay quietly, trying not to think, waiting for the spasm in his shoulder to subside. After several minutes, he focused his mind and set to work on the puzzle again. All right. Obviously his captors didn't know what they wanted to know, or they wouldn't be beating the shit out of him. So where did the people go? He remembered the books and the maps and the cloning tanks. Was it possible? Could it be possible that someone or something had perfected cloning, giving the beings individualized features, making them look different? Or was it that the missing people were actual abductees - or more to the point, their clones? Would one of them be Samantha? What if they were making actual communities? God knows, what I've seen.... Maybe aliens did take them. But *why* would aliens take them? He acted on the urge to get up, but the pain in his head, shoulder and now his back were too much, and he gave up the struggle. All that effort, and he didn't think he moved even an inch. But the question was, if this place wasn't on the map, why was the 'government' so hot to be here? Too many questions. Oh Scully, I need you badly. I hurt so much. His mind flashed to the bathroom scene and Scully's face when she saw him and Candy. He would have done anything at the moment to go back in time. He knew he didn't need Candy to change the lightbulb, so why did he let her? Oh, Candy.... "Focus, Mr. Mulder, focus!" He could have sworn he heard Deep Throat's voice this time. With his one good eye, he looked around, but again he was alone. Okay, they don't know anything, but apparently they think I do, so therefore I'll have to hold them off. But Scully doesn't even know where I am! So I have to escape, he thought. Of course, the fact that he couldn't move was a problem. He began to see where a little more religion in his life might have served him in good stead. What were the odds of a Supreme Being listening to a prayer that started: Oh God - if there is one - help me! The door to the room opened and Mulder slowly angled his battered head to see his captor. "Sleep well? How's the vacation, getting enough rest?" There was a malicious smile on the Commander's face. Mulder tried to answer but his mouth was dry. "Don't worry. Another round like yesterday would leave you dead. That would involve too much paperwork and not enough answers for my purposes. You'll be thrilled to know we're flying in a specialist to see you. I'll let you rest for now. But later, I'm going to introduce you to Dr. Herprin. He believes that there truly is better living through chemistry." He opened the door and began to leave. Mulder's mouth worked for several moments before he managed to croak out, "W-water?" "Oh, I'm afraid not, Agent Mulder. I've heard it's contraindicated in injuries like yours. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you before the good doctor gets here. Just get some more sleep. We'll want you nice and rested for this afternoon's session." - - - - - Palm Garden Motor Court Sebring, Florida Wednesday, March 5 8:20 AM "Dana, Chris and I are ready to leave for breakfast. Dana?" There was a perfunctory knock and Candy was in the room before Scully could tell her to go away. "We're going to breakfast. Want to come?" Candy's dazzling smile faded. "Dana, are you okay? You look AWFUL!" Scully closed her eyes. Wonderful. Perfect. Just the way I want to start the day, with Miss Universe, Ph.D. telling me I look like hell. She surrendered to the inevitable, opened her eyes and pushed herself up on the pillows. "You two go ahead. I didn't get much sleep last night and I don't feel much like eating anyway." "Worried about Sc-, I mean, Mulder, huh?" The fabulous blond tresses shimmered as she nodded sympathetically. "Try not to worry. We'll figure something out. Okay, we're going now. We'll bring you back something, okay?" She was out the door before Scully could tell her not to bother. She threw the covers off with a groan and headed for the shower. Why should I worry, she thought. Dr. Candy McDermott is sure we'll figure something out. What a load of comfort that is.... She let the hot water pound down on the tense muscles of her neck and back. Between fitful naps, she had worked on the problem all night and was no further ahead than when she started. Blowing her hair dry, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Her presence in Florida had done nothing for her complexion, she noted, as her pale reflection stared back at her. Her eyes were reddened and dark smudges stained the skin under them. Sighing, she turned off the dryer, did the best she could with makeup and pulled on some clothes. Quickly she made up the bed, then stretched out on it, thinking furiously. What was happening to her partner right now? Was he even alive? Her mind presented her with a series of scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. How many times had she been through this? How many times had she gone into a situation, certain she would find Mulder too late, his body broken and lifeless. It was all horrible enough, but with the way she felt about - No, don't go there, girl, she warned herself. There was nothing to be gained by that line of thought. She forced herself to work on the problem objectively, but the answers were no quicker in coming. "Dana? Are you in there?" Candy? Scully frowned. She hadn't heard their car come back. The skin at the back of her neck prickled, like hackles rising in warning. "Just a minute!" She tucked her gun into the waistband at the back of her shorts, and opened the door. "Come on in, Candy." She let the woman precede her into the room. Suddenly, she pulled her weapon, and gestured at the armchair. Candy stared back, aghast. Coldly Scully ordered, "Sit down - slowly." When she had complied, the agent said, "Now suppose you tell me who the hell you are." Before her eyes, the gorgeous form of the meteorologist morphed into the bulky shape of the being with whom she and Mulder had had only unpleasant associations. "Put the gun down. You know it is useless. Worse than useless - it could be very dangerous for you," the deep, heavily accented voice commanded arrogantly. "Possibly. But it makes me feel better, all right? I think you owe me an explanation." She sat cautiously on the edge of the bed, about eight feet away from the being. She still held the gun, but not in the rigid "ready" posture. "I know where your partner is." Her eyes narrowed, but her face did not give away her excitement, her relief, the race of her heartbeat. Mulder, he knew how to find Mulder! "That's a good start. But why the hell should I believe you? You've tried to kill us before." His smile was grim. "If I had tried to kill you - either of you - you would be dead now." "You killed that cop - Officer Kelley." "Like all the others, he killed himself." He shrugged. "I cannot be held accountable for the strange reaction you beings seem to have to exposure to my fluids." "So where is Mulder? Why was he taken? What is your part in all of this? And why should you help us?" The being seemed to take her barrage of questions seriously. "He is at a military camp about six miles from Groveton. I have seen him there. He is... not doing well at the moment. They are awaiting someone who will inject him with something so he will tell them what he knows about Groveton." Frustrated, Scully ran her hand through her hair. "But we don't know anything about Groveton - that's the irony of all this. He can't tell them what he doesn't know." "Then why are you here?" "You answer my questions first. What is your part in all of this?" "It is my mission. The people of Groveton were unauthorized experiments, the very creatures I was sent here to exterminate." "You mean they were clones?" But how - " "The experiments have been taken a step further by these criminals. They have learned how to alter the appearance of their creations, so that they do not all look the same. I was sent here to exterminate the colony before they were dispersed throughout your world to start other colonies. Where did they go?" "I have no idea - and neither does Mulder. Our friends happened to be staying down here. When all the inhabitants of the town disappeared overnight, they got in touch with us and we said we'd take a look." Her tone was bitter. "We've been here two days and still have no idea where they might have gone. I had no idea they were anything but normal people until you said otherwise." He stared at her. "You really don't know, do you?" "No, I really don't," she said tiredly. "And neither does my partner." "Then I hope he has a talent for dissembling. If those who hold him find out he knows nothing, they will kill him. Only the fact that they think he knows more than they do is keeping him alive." "Who are the ones who took him? I thought you worked for them." He smiled slightly. "I work for nobody but the Ones who have given me my orders. I have, however, forged some alliances which were... necessary... for my work here to continue. From time to time, when it does not interfer with my mission, I have done favors for some of those in your government. Then, they conveniently turn their back on some of my activities which they would find... troublesome. But work for them? No." Scully shook her head as if to clear it. "But, the Smoking Man...." The being barked a short, derisory laugh. "Him. He is a fool, more of a fool than most of those here whom I have encountered. But he has a genius for positioning himself where he can do the most damage, both to interests other than his own, and to my mission as well. As such, it has become necessary to cooperate with him, until such time as he becomes too great an inconvenience. But still - you should be grateful to him." She looked at him, dumbfounded. "Grateful to him? You've got to be kidding!" His expression remained stony. Kidding was not part of his behavior, obviously. "Indirectly, he is the reason I am here. It is his express wish that your partner Mulder survives." "But why?" she gasped. "He's done nothing but put us in harm's way. We're on opposite sides in everything. Why would he want Mulder to live?" "I can't answer that." At her disbelieving stare, he shrugged. "I don't know the answer. The man's mind, his plots and schemes, are too twisted for anyone to follow. Most have nothing to do with my mission, so I take no interest. But I have intervened before, in ways you have never discovered, to protect Mulder. May I say he gets into more than his share of trouble. And we must act quickly to protect him again." Scully's mind was in turmoil. She had no reason to believe the... whatever the hell he was... sitting before her, yet she found found his words mysteriously compelling. It all did make sense in a weird kind of way. Her heart had begun thudding the second he had mentioned that Mulder was in bad shape. Getting to her partner as quickly as possible was paramount, and she had no idea how to do that on her own. It appeared she had no choice. "What's your plan?" The being nodded. End of Chapter Six Chapter Seven Basecamp Wednesday, March 5 1:25 PM The guards deposited the broken body on a cot in their makeshift infirmary. "Ah, so you're Fox Mulder," purred Dr. Herprin. Mulder detected a hint of a German accent. From his age, he looked like he could have been a veteran of World War One. "No need to get up. I've always wanted to meet you. I knew your father. An honorable man, but oddly naive. He never fully understood what it was we were trying to do. I hear he's dead now. My condolences." The commander scowled. "Doctor, time is running short. Could we get started?" "Commander Avin, you are always in such a rush. This will take time. I will call you when we are ready." The military man felt his temper flare. He was in a foul mood anyway, with the failure of his men to find Mulder's partner and the other couple. And it had not been his idea to enlist the help of the good doctor. Avin didn't trust ideas that were not his own, and he certainly didn't trust foreigners. While his own methods were crude, he was sure that they would have yielded results in the end - better results than the psychologists with their crazy theories, and maybe better than the miracle drug of the mad scientist. Enough time had been wasted. "I'm ready now. Give him the drug!" "Very well," the doctor sighed resignedly. He had been looking forward to having time to get to know young Fox and reminisce with him about his father. It was true that Bill Mulder never fully understood or believed in what they were trying to do. He had even tried to warn Bill on many occasions, long before the others had set into action the plan to ensure his cooperation. That plan - the abduction of one of his children - had resulted in the virtual destruction of the Mulder family, and the complete annihilation of Bill Mulder, both as a man and as a participant in the Project. Poor young Fox. So young and so tortured. He sighed again. If there was any other way, he would never have come here, to use this drug on Bill's son. But in truth, the beings of Groveton were part and parcel of his research - he needed the answer to the mystery of their disappearance as much as the commander did. The elderly scientist unwrapped a syringe and pulled a vial of yellowish-green viscous fluid from his pocket. Carefully he drew up two cc's of the liquid and nodded to the guard. Mulder watched with the horrified fascination of a mouse, transfixed by the snake that would shortly consume it. He wanted so desperately to move and run, but his body was no longer his to command, too broken even to move. "My son, just breathe deeply and think happy thoughts. Think of those happy times with your sister, eh?" He smiled at Mulder like a grandfather. The mention of his sister brought him back to life and reminded that he had to find a way out, a way to get to Scully. "You knew my sister?" "Of course. She was a beautiful child. I always thought it was a shame what happened to her. All right, here we go." He nodded again to the guard, who grabbed Mulder's arm and held it like a vice. Quickly the doctor applied a tourniquet, smiling as he saw the veins pop up in Mulder's forearm. He swabbed the area with alcohol, expertly inserted the needle and started injecting the drug. "Just keep breathing slowly. This is a new truth serum I've developed. You should feel honored - you are the first human subject I've given it to." The doctor finished, then stood straight and proud, like a cat showing its owner the mouse it just killed. Mulder's arm started to burn, a sensation that spread with the circulation of the drug. After a few minutes he could feel his whole body burning. He closed his eyes, and felt like he was in the witch's oven from Hansel and Gretel. The commander watched the pain etch itself across the young man's face, aging him. "How long do we have to wait?" "Not long, I suppose. This is the first human test, you know. My monkeys didn't have much to say, eh? He began to chuckle at his own joke. "Explain to me again how this works," said Avin, never taking his eyes off Mulder. "My dear commander, it's very simple. The chemicals in the brain that are produced when a subject is lying are transferred to pain receptors. In other words, when he lies, he will experience intense pain. If he lies too much, he will die from the pain. If he tells the truth, he will not experience any pain - well, not much anyway. Oh, I think he's about ready." The doctor bent down to his moaning patient and checked his dilated pupils. "Now Fox, don't fight this. Just tell us where the people of Groveton are, dear boy." I don't know, he thought dazedly. Please, just leave me alone, I don't know. Maybe - maybe aliens - "Mulder, aliens? There are no such thing as aliens!" admonished Scully's voice. He looked around confusedly. "Sccc...?" The commander leaned closer. "What's he saying, Doctor?" "Fox, Fox listen to me. You need to tell us where the people of Groveton have gone. Fox?" Mulder continued to peer into the distance with his one good eye, seeking the source of Scully's voice. "You incompetant fool! You didn't give him enough!!" "No! He'll tell us, give it time to work into his system. He'll talk." Please, for your sake, Fox, tell us. "Fox, my son, please tell us where the people of Groveton have gone." "Fox, there are so many things that I need to tell you. So many things you'll learn. You'll hear the words...and begin to understand their meaning... the merchandise...." "DAD!!!" He struggled against the grip of the guard. "This is insane. I should've just beaten it out of him, we're getting nowhere." The commander kicked a chair against the wall in frustration. "Commander, if you had done that, he would be dead." "He's going to die anyway! At least I might have gotten some answers! This is ridiculous. If you ever want to return to your little laboratory, you'll make him talk. Give him more!" "I don't think..." The officer pulled out his weapon and aimed it at the doctor's head. "You aren't being paid to think. Do it!" Herprin filled another syringe and injected more of the thick fluid into Mulder, apologizing, pleading with his patient to tell them what they wanted to know. As soon as the drug hit his veins, Mulder let out a bloodcurdling scream. The commander went over and slapped him across the face to make him stop. "Tell us what we want to know." "In our line, nothing is just what it seems," advised Deep Throat. "Tell us!!" "Alllieenns." Mulder's tongue wasn't working. "Saammm hasss tthhheeemmm." "Aliens? Sam has them? Who's Sam? You, guard! Run to the communications room and have them check the records to find this Sam." Dr. Herprin held his silence. He knew that Sam was Mulder's sister, but if it meant the commander would stop beating on the boy and give the serum time to work, it was worth wasting time. "Well, Doctor, it seems your potion is working. As soon as we get a line on this Sam, you can have him for your little experiments." "Thank you, Commander." One of his men poked his head inside the door. "Sir, we need you in the communications room." "Excuse me, Doctor. I'm about to find out who this Sam is." The commander appeared pleased with himself as he left the room. The doctor knew it would be a matter of a very short time before Avin would be back, probably in a fouler mood than before. He knelt down to Mulder, who was moaning and rambling incomprehensibly. "Fox, Fox try to concentrate." Almost tenderly, he brushed the sweaty hair away from his forehead. "Fox, Sam is gone. She doesn't have them. She loved you very much. But you have to tell me where the people of Groveton are." "Gone. Gone... they're all gone." "Yes, I know," he said patiently. "But where did they go?" "I ddonn't knnoww." He was crying. "I don't know, Dad. She's gone, they took her, but I don't know where. There was a white light...." "Fox, where are the people of Groveton? Please - before that Neanderthal comes back." "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't.... I tried, but...." Mulder was blindly reaching for the lapels of the doctor's labcoat. "Please, I'm so sorry. Sam, they have Sam." Herprin knew Mulder's file and was well aware of the abuse and the trauma of his childhood. But he was also aware that the commander was coming back, and he had to get answers. "Fox, I forgive you. Now tell me where the clones went." "The government...aaahhh!!!" "Ssshhh, the government?" "No," Mulder was panting and white as a sheet. "Aliens, aliens took them." Herprin sighed and got off his knees. There was nothing more he could do. He heard footsteps approaching the room. Commander Avin came back in. "Did he say anything more about this Sam?" "Yes, he did. I believe he's referring to Uncle Sam. He thinks the government is responsible." "The government. Stay with him, try to find out more. I need to know exactly who." "I don't think he knows." "What makes you so sure?" "Because my formula is perfect," the scientist replied arrogantly. "If he knew anything, he would have told us, the agony caused by the drug would have forced him to. I seriously doubt that he knows anything more than what he's said." The commander eyed the doctor suspiciously, "But he hasn't said anything useful at all. You'd better not be lying for him or we'll be using that formula on you!" Herprin's face flushed with anger. "I'm not lying. You and the others have made it abundantly clear what the consequences would be of anything less than my full cooperation." "Then see that you remember that. Now - start questioning him again - or we'll go back to doing things my way." Stabbed by the unfamiliar emotions of guilt and regret, Herprin turned toward the son of his old colleague once more. - - - - - "You're sure you know what to do?" Scully started a bit at the gruff voice of her companion. I know what to do, she thought. I just hope I don't regret doing it. The plan was a good one...at any rate, it was the only one they could think of. But it meant putting herself completely at the mercy of this strange creature. The total surrender of control to someone else was something that would have disturbed her with anyone, other than her partner. But giving up her fate to this... whatever he was.... "Yes, I'm sure." "Then let's go." They got out of the Jeep and began walking quickly but quietly through the trees and brush to the edge of the basecamp. "That's far enough." Scully watched as before her eyes the creature morphed into a tall, muscular soldier. "Turn around." Reluctantly, she turned and stretched her hands out in back of her. This was the part of the plan she disliked the most, shuddering slightly at the snick of the handcuffs closing around her wrists. Then he blindfolded her. Her heart raced. "Look, is the blindfold really necessary?" "Everyone who is brought to this camp is blindfolded. It would raise suspicion if I brought you in and you weren't." She felt him grab her upper arm, firmly but not roughly. "Now let's go." She let him guide her over the uneven ground, noting the change from the pine needle-strewn forest floor, to the packed dirt of the road and then to the gravel of the courtyard of the basecamp. Sounds of trucks and men's voices and boot- clad feet surrounded her. "Who's that you got, Shanahan?" She heard the voice of her strange ally rumble beside her. "Looks like I won me that furlough the Old Man promised. Tough shit, Krupsky, but I found her - this is that guy's girlfriend." Her lips tightened. Girlfriend - yeah, right. I should live that long. We both should. "Well, you are one lucky som'bitch! Here I am stuck on guard duty, while you're out foolin' around and winnin' yourself a thirty day furlough. Shee-it!" "Where is he?" "In the Infirmary with her boyfriend, the last I knew. Hey sweet cheeks, I heard your boyfriend isn't doing so good. He isn't going to be doing you any good for a while, anyway. So when you're through in there, maybe you'll wanna come out and play with us boys. Whaddya say?" "Go fuck yourself." Her head recoiled from the force of the slap and tears burned in her eyes. Hands grabbed her hair as she tried to turn her head to avoid the foul breath of her assailant. "When Lance Krupsky wants to play, you'll play, got it?" He let go of her hair and shoved her backwards. "Okay, Shanahan, take her in - but I get her first if the Old Man cuts her loose." "You got it." He led her up some wooden steps and through a doorway. Once they had passed through the entry room and into the hallway, he bent low to her ear. "That was not an intelligent thing to do. I won't be able to protect you if you do something so ill-considered again." Scully clenched her jaw but otherwise gave no response. The voice was in her ear again. "We have come through a large room with monitoring equipment and several men, all of them armed. Right now we are going down a long hallway, with doors on each side. The Infirmary is two more doors down on the left." She nodded slightly, somewhat heartened by the fact that her companion was speaking to her, possibly sensing her battle with her own helplessness and trying to keep her focused. They stopped and her 'captor' knocked on a door. She heard it open. "Shanahan, what the hell do you - " He broke off abruptly when he spotted Scully. "And who's our guest?" he continued in a smarmy voice. "Mulder's girlfriend, sir. Just as you ordered. I'll just bring her in - " "That will be all, Shanahan. I'll take care of things from here." "But - " "I said that will be all! Don't blow this like you've blown so many other opportunities, Shanahan." "No, sir. Very good, sir." And without another word, her only ally turned and went back down the hall. Scully felt her hope fading with his retreating footsteps. "Now, Agent Scully, please come in. There's someone here who will be very glad to see you." He angled her through the door and into the room. "Agent Mulder! We've brought you a visitor. Now maybe you'll be more inspired to tell us what you know." Still blindfolded, she turned her head in the direction of a moan. The room smelled of sweat and blood and fear. A chill went through her as her mind raced. How the hell was she going to get them out of this, now that her mysterious ally had deserted her? There was another moan - definitely Mulder's moan. At least he was alive - but for how much longer? "I don't know where your people got the idea that it was perfectly legal to kidnap Federal officers, but if you're in charge here, you at least should know better," she said coolly. She sensed the commander's approach. An instant later, she was dazzled by the bright lights of the room when the blindfold was roughly pulled from her face. When she could see clearly, her eyes searched the room for her partner, finally lighting on the cot by the wall. She hoped that she kept her horrified reaction from reaching her face. Mulder looked God-awful, had obviously been beaten severely. But their only chance lay in their captors not knowing the closeness of the bond between them. She had sized up the commander at a glance - he would not hesitate to use her against Mulder, or him against her, if it would get him what he wanted. "Legal is such a relative term, don't you think?" Avin smiled down at her, his eyes cold. "Now, Agent Scully, suppose you tell us what you and your partner are doing down here." "We're on vacation." She kept her tone cool, clipped, seemingly taking little notice in the moaning, broken form on the cot. "Don't give me that shit. I've gotten enough of that from your partner, and you see what it's earned him." "I might also add that assault and battery against a Federal officer carries very stiff penalties." She glared at the commander. The chill of her tone suggested that the man moaning on the cot was a Federal officer and only a Federal officer, as far as she was concerned. With every word she spoke, Mulder seemed to become more alert. Now he was struggling to sit up. "S-scully...." "Not now, Agent Mulder," she said tersely. She knew how Mulder behaved when he was hurting and vulnerable, either physically or mentally. As she knew from more experience than she wanted to remember, during those times he openly craved her touch, the soft stroke of her voice. But any demonstration of that sort could be their undoing right now. She didn't believe in telepathy, but it didn't stop her from trying to use it now. For Christ's sake, Mulder, shut up. Act like you don't care, don't blow this. Even as she tried to focus her thoughts, she realized how difficult that would be for him. She was having a hard enough time restraining herself from rushing to his side; how much harder would it be for him, after what he had been through? She stared at him, willing him to hold on, to keep quiet. "Now, I wonder how we might encourage Agent Mulder to speak...," Avin mused aloud. "...now that we have his pretty little girlfriend here to give him some motivation." He strolled casually up behind Scully. "I don't know where you idiots got the idea I was his girfriend, but you're way off b - " she broke off as Avin's hand closed around her throat. He dragged her to the center of the room and threw her on the floor, where she lay gasping and choking. Mulder trembled with the effort not to move, not to cry out. Granted, he would probably have trembled and yelled if he had tried to move, as well. But he had understood Scully's non- verbal message - the body language, her demeanor, the whole act she had been putting on for Avin's benefit. He just hoped to hell she had some sort of plan, because neither of them would be able to hold out forever. The officer strode over to Mulder and leaned over him threateningly, grabbing him by the collar. "Tell us what we want to know." "W-we're on v-vacation." He flinched as the wave of pain caused by the remnants of the drug hit him, sweat breaking out on his brow once more. "Bullshit! Maybe you'd like to see your partner injected with some of Herprin's shit, eh? Or maybe I should just make her the evening's entertainment for my troops? They haven't had any nightlife in a while - they could use the diversion. What do you think, Mulder? Because it will be your fault - all your fault - for not telling me what I need to know. I don't think she'll look so fresh and pretty by tomorrow morning, do you? Think about it, Mulder. All your fault...." Mulder squirmed on the cot, trying to hold himself upright on his uninjured side. His gaze locked with Scully's - hers defiant and reassuring, his full of his own pain, full of his fear for her. Through gritted teeth he forced out, "We're on vacation. She's not my girlfriend...she's just another FBI agent... agh!" A soft cry escaped his lips and he panted for a moment, trying to get his breath. "We don't... know... anything... about Groveton. Now fuck off." Scully, if I'm wrong, if this isn't how you want me to play this, please, please forgive me. With a scream of frustration, Avin brought his knee up, catching Mulder under the jaw and sending him into the wall. He reached over to Scully, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to her feet. "Let's see how you feel tonight, as you're listening to her screams, Mulder. Let's see if you're any more cooperative in the morning, when I throw what's left of her back in here." As Avin grabbed her by the cuffs and swung her towards the door, she caught Mulder's eyes, trying to tell him he had done well, that she would find a way out of this mess. Just as the commander's hand reached for the knob, the door opened. "Shanahan - I thought I told you that you were dismissed. Never mind - I have something for you to do. Take Agent Scully here and introduce her to the troops. Tell them to show her a good time...." "I already have something else to do," the soldier said calmly. Avin flushed darkly and his eyes looked as if they were about to burst from his head. "You will follow my orders, or you won't live to be busted back to private," he barked cholerically. "Sorry, Commander - you've been out-ranked," the young man coolly replied. With that, he morphed into the bulky form to which he was most accustomed. Avin stood gawking, stunned, for several seconds. Then he came to his senses, and opened his mouth to scream for the guards. Before a sound emerged, the being picked him up effortlessly and threw him into the wall twelve feet away. The commander connected with a snap and a sickening thud. He slid down the wall, his head and neck at an impossible angle to his body. Scully's cuffs were undone before Avin hit the floor. She rushed to the cot. "Mulder, can you sit up? Mulder, try to sit up, we have to get out of here." As she tried to revive her partner, the bulky being strode towards Herprin. The doctor was cowering in a corner, his arms raised in surrender, whimpering over and over, "Gott in Himmel, Gott in Himmel!" "Leave him," ordered Scully. "I need help with Mulder." "He'll have to walk out under his own power," answered the gruff, accented voice. He was morphing once more, this time into the form of Commander Avin. "It must look like I'm taking you out of here at gunpoint, otherwise we'll be stopped, questioned. Get him on his feet." He helped her to get Mulder upright, the agent crying out when one of them inadvertantly pulled on his throbbing right arm. She steadied him, her arms circling his waist tightly, while he swayed and tried to remain conscious. "Come on, Mulder....we just have to make it outside, then you can pass out." "D-don't be m-mad, Scully." She almost laughed. After all the hell he had been through, he seemed more disturbed by the idea that she could be angry with him than the possibility of getting caught again. "I'm not mad, Mulder. But you need to be able to walk out of here." "S-screwed up our vacation...." "Yeah, I know. So what else is new? Can you walk?" He tried a few steps, leaning heavily on her. "Will you be pissed if I c-can't?," he panted. "I'll definitely be pissed, Mulder. Come on, hold it together just a little longer, okay? Just a couple of minutes and we're out of here. Otherwise, you'll be 'gator bait, and I'll be the platoon's hot date for the night." That seemed to get through to him. He took a few deep breaths and the reeling in his head cleared a bit. He took an experimental step forward. "I can do this," he muttered grimly. He nodded sharply, then grabbed more tightly onto his partner as the room swam and his stomach lurched. "Remind me not to nod, Scully." "Don't nod, Mulder." Her smile faded as she looked up at him, alarmed by his pallor, the beads of sweat dotting his skin. He was in shock, that was certain. But his jaw was set stubbornly, and she knew he'd make it out, even if it killed him. If he made it out, it would be her job to see that it didn't. She gripped him more securely. "Are you ready?" The 'commander' had the door open, scanning the hallway. "Yes, let's go." He motioned her in front of him with Avin's sidearm. "Let me do the talking, and don't stop for anything." They went down the hallway as slowly as they dared and as quickly as Mulder could move, finally coming to the large entry room. The men there sprang to attention as they saw their commanding officer. "At ease, men. Say goodbye to our visitors - they won't be back." Several looked disappointed. Evidently Avin's plans for Scully had been overheard and eagerly anticipated. She did her best to look like she was marching to her execution. Her partner added verisimilitude - he already looked half-dead. The trio made it out through the door into the courtyard. "Krupsky!" The guard jumped and guiltily, tossed his cigarette butt away. "Yes, sir!" "Who told you you could smoke on guard duty?" "No one, sir. I'm sorry, sir." "Well, that stunt just earned you burial duty. When I come back, you're to get a shovel and get rid of all evidence of our guests. Got it?" "Yes, sir." "All right, you two. Let's go for a little walk in the woods." As they moved away, Scully was sure she heard Krupsky grumble "... a damn waste of a woman...." She half-carried, half-dragged Mulder across the dirt road and into the woods, closely followed by the physical form of Commander Avin. When they had gone some thirty yards into the thick pine forest, Mulder stumbled and went down. She tried to get him up, but it was impossible without putting pressure on his injured arm and shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, then went still. She turned, about to ask for help, when the likeness of Avin was replaced by the bulky, familiar form of their unlikely ally. He tossed her the keys to the Jeep. "Get it started. I'll bring him." She stood open-mouthed for a couple of seconds as he scooped up Mulder in his arms as if he were a child. Then she headed for the Jeep. She had barely gotten it started when the passenger door opened and Mulder was laid gently across the back seat. "Just a moment," the voice commanded. She jumped as he fired two shots into the air in rapid succession. Tossing the gun on the ground, he leapt into the Jeep. "That should give us a few minutes. Get going." She didn't need to be told twice. End of Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Sebring, Florida Thursday, March 6 10:30 AM "...all right, which hospital is it this time?" His tone was resigned, almost as if he had been expecting the call. Scully could clearly picture Skinner's face in her mind. The glare, the twitch of his upper lip that was almost a sneer. She had delivered this news too often not to know the AD's reaction. The fact that this time she was delivering it by way of the phone and not in person did nothing to diminish the graphic image in her mind. "Sebring Community Hospital, sir." "Intensive Care, as usual, I suppose." "Well, yes," she admitted, "but only for twenty four hours or so, sir. It's just a precaution. It won't even be that long if they need the bed for someone else. By tomorrow he should be transferred to the Trauma floor, and then he'll be discharged a day or two after that, if all goes well." "With Mulder involved, it's difficult to count on everything going well, Agent Scully." He sighed. "You know, I was under the impression that you two were going on vacation. How did Agent Mulder sustain his injuries? Waterskiing? Parasailing, perhaps?" She cleared her throat. This wasn't going well. She might as well tackle the hard part. "Uh, no sir, I'm afraid not. He was kidnapped on the order of a Commander Avin, subjected to an experimental drug against his will and was beaten half to death." There was an edge to her voice as she finished, almost a challenge to her tone, as if she expected the AD to dismiss the episode as another one of Mulder's hairbrained stunts, or as the result of his uncanny ability to ask the wrong questions of the wrong people at the wrong time. She was startled, then, by Skinner's response. "You have a first name on Avin? How about which branch of the military?" "We weren't exactly on a first name basis, sir," she replied dryly. Pointedly she added, "And it was the branch that wears black uniforms." He was silent for a moment. "Hold on for a minute, Scully." She stood holding the phone, watching the activity around her at the busy nurses' station. Skinner's voice came back on the line. "There's no record in the data banks of an officer named Avin in any branch of the military, Agent Scully." "Did you really expect there would be, sir?" He sighed again. "No, I guess not," he said tersely. "Is Mulder going to press charges against this Commander Avin - or is he going to press them against Mulder?" She hesitated. "I doubt it, sir. Commander Avin is no longer in the picture, if you get my drift." "Jesus Christ, Scully! Mulder didn't kill him, did he?" "No, sir, Agent Mulder did not kill him. He could barely move at the time." "Did you?" "No, sir." She didn't elaborate. After a pause, Skinner said, "I take it that you would prefer to tell me in your report." Relieved, she took the escape he offered. "Yes, sir. I think that would be better. I have a couple of other names you can check out. An enlisted man by the name of Lance Krupsky - that's with a K, I think - and an old doctor, possibly a German or Austrian national by the name of Herprin. But I don't think you'll have any better luck with those, if you stick to official channels." She lightly emphasized the latter words. But it wasn't necessary - the use of those two words spoke volumes between the AD and his subordinate. "I'll see what I can do. What's the extent of Mulder's injuries? How long will he be confined to desk duty this time?" "At least until the cast is off. Fractured clavicle, dislocated shoulder, a hairline fracture of the humerus and another of the cheekbone. He was negative for skull fracture, but there was concussion, of course." "Of course." She winced at the dry sarcasm, but plowed on. "We're waiting for the results of some tests before internal injuries are ruled out. He may have a kidney contusion as well." Skinner was quiet for a few moments. "You're a physician. Tell me, Scully. How much more punishment can his body take?" he asked grimly. Miserably, she replied, "I don't know, sir. I wish to God I did. Then maybe I'd do what I could to get him out of the field. He'd hate me forever, but it might save his life. But as things stand, it's fortunate that he seems to have miraculous powers of healing." "Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin', is that it, Agent Scully?" There was a hint of humor in his voice. She smiled in spite of herself. "Something like that, sir." "How are you doing?" "I'm...okay. I am now, anyway." "What the hell went on down there, Agent Scully? I'm sure there's more to the story than what you've told me so far." "I - I'm going to have to think about that, sir. Yes, there's more, a lot more. But at the moment, I wouldn't have a clue how to explain it." "Very well. Report to me first thing when you're back in town. I can expect you by Monday?" "If Mulder's fit to travel, yes, sir." His tone changed then - warmer than that of a superior, yet not quite as intimate as that of a friend. More gently he said, "Keep me up to date on Mulder's condition, will you, Dana?" "Yes, sir." "I'm here if you need anything." "I appreciate that, sir." Scully hung up the phone and drifted into the break room. She poured herself a cup of coffee, sipping it carefully as she took it back to Mulder's little corner of the ICU. She sat gratefully in the lounge chair at his bedside, provided by the nurses late the previous night when it became clear that she was not going to leave. Stretching back in the chair, she watched the reassuring regularity of his heartbeat on the cardiac monitor. He was sleeping now, had been sleeping for the past several hours. His dark hair hung in his eyes, long lashes resting on his cheeks, his face stubbly from two days' growth of beard. The left side of his face was still badly swollen and discolored. His left arm lay at his side, taped to an armboard to prevent him from dislodging his IV. The right was encased in a fiberglass cast which was held out stiffly at an angle by a brace which wrapped around his waist. The last twenty four hours had been... well, frankly... surrealistic. She could hardly believe herself that their nemesis - who was also possibly an alien - had shown up in the middle of nowhere to help her free Mulder. Now that the rigors of the rescue were over, she had the leisure to wonder why the Smoking Man had issued the directive to save her partner's life. Whose side was he on, anyway? She rubbed her temples wearily. Whose side was anyone on in this mess? Mulder's IV pump began beeping. Scully pushed herself from the chair and replaced the empty with the full bag of fluid standing by on the bedside table. "It's okay - I took care of it," she told the nurse who came hurrying into the room. The nurse looked impossibly young to be in charge of the ICU, but Scully had seen her in action and she was good - very good. "Thanks. The patient in 3C is crashing and we might be tied up for a while. Anything you need right now?" "No, thanks." "Look, here's his next dose of morphine," she said, handing Scully a Tubex. "He's due for it any time now - he'll probably need it when he wakes up. It's strictly against the rules for me to leave it with you of course, but you being a doctor and all.... Anyway, I wouldn't want him to be in pain and have to wait for it if we're tied up next door." She dimpled prettily. Scully read the barrel of the medication cartridge and nodded. "I'll see that he gets it." Evidently, her partner was having his usual devastating effect on the nursing staff. There certainly had been no shortage of females coming into his room to see if there was anything he needed. <> "Shit!" The nurse was out the door at a run, as the rumble of the rolling crash cart and the slap of rushing footsteps filled the hallway. Scully took Mulder's vital signs and checked the circulation in his injured arm, carefully recording her findings in his chart. Then she sat down, relaxing into the chair, her thoughts once more on the events of the previous day. The ride from the basecamp had been terrible. After her ally had fired the two shots to simulate hers and Mulder's executions, she had driven off down the rutted dirt road as fast as she could. At any moment, she expected to see a pursuing truckload of black-clad soldiers reflected in her rearview mirror. Mulder moaned in the back seat, vainly trying to bite back a yell every time the Jeep hit a pothole and jostled him. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "We have to find a hospital, fast." Her companion looked casually over his shoulder into the back seat at Mulder's form. "He will not die. He is in pain, but he will not die." She glanced over at him for just a second, then turned her eyes back to the winding country road. "I thought I was the doctor here." His lips curled slightly. "You healers are strangely proprietary about your talents - however inadequate they may be. Think what you wish. In any event, the only thing that may kill him is your driving. Turn left here." The Jeep skidded into the turn. In moments they were on the paved surface of the road heading into Sebring. "You can slow down now. We aren't being followed and I have no wish to be stopped by the police." Scully glanced down at the speedometer - she was doing better than 85. She eased up on the accelerator until their speed dropped to 60, just five over the posted limit. Ahead she could see a traffic light at a major crossroad. Seconds later she could pick out a blue and white "H" sign. "The hospital's to the right. No offence to your obvious medical expertise," she said dryly, "but I'm turning." Her companion merely shrugged. About a mile after they had turned, the hospital came into sight. Suddenly he demanded, "Pull over here." "Why?" she asked sharply. "Just do it." She pulled into a strip mall parking lot. Her mysterious ally opened the Jeep door and slid out. "Where are you going?" "I have no need to go to your hospital. He is safe now," he indicated Mulder with a nod, "and I have my mission to complete." She shook her head. "But.... I guess I thought...." She took a deep breath and started over. "Thank you. Thank you for getting Mulder out of there." A faint look of amusement passed over the normally expressionless face. "I need no thanks. I will do anything necessary to carry out my mission. This was merely a favor for one who makes that possible." Nerves frayed, she lost her temper. "What's his name?" Scully demanded. "Why did he tell you to save Mulder?" He turned and walked toward the bus station at the far end of the strip mall. For a moment, Scully considered trying to catch up with him, but a glance at Mulder's pallor, and she headed for the hospital. What followed were several hours that seemed like a replay of all the other times she had accompanied him to emergency rooms around the country. X-rays, lab tests, her partner's body invaded by needles, catheters, monitor wires. Every time she had promised herself it would be the last. This had been no different.... She was wrested from her thoughts as Mulder groaned softly and began to stir. His eyes snapped open, wide with panic and pain. Clumsily, he groped with his left hand, reaching, searching for something. She caught his hand and held it as best she could around the styrofoam and tape of the armboard. "It's all right. I'm here." Instantly he settled, his eyes closing. When they reopened, the panic was gone, though the pain was still there. "How long have I been asleep?" "Almost five hours now. Feel better?" "I'm thirsty." She let go of his hand and picked up a cup and spoon. "You can't drink yet. Here's some ice chips." "I hate those fucking things. Not everyone shares your passion for crunching chunks of ice between their teeth." "Quit complaining and open up." She spooned a few ice chips into his mouth. They melted and he swallowed the small amount of water they produced. "Some bedside manner you have, " he grumbled. "Must be all the practice I get." Regret tinged his expression. "I'm sorry, Scully. I did it to you again, didn't I?" "In spades, partner." "What's the damage this time?" She ran down the list of his injuries. "You sure about no skull fracture? My head's pounding and I'm seeing double." "You have a concussion, that's not unexpected. But I'll take a look at the x-rays myself a little later to make sure they didn't miss anything." "Nice to have my own personal physician." He looked around for something. "Uh, Scully... I have to.... Where's that bottle thingy?" "No, you don't 'have to'. You're just feeling irritation in your bladder from the catheter." "Shit. I hate those fucking things, too." "You know, for someone who hates hospital procedures as much as you do, you don't do a very good job taking care of yourself so you can avoid them." The lightness in her tone might have indicated amusement to anyone else. But Mulder saw that her eyes were dark with worry and fatigue. He reached awkwardly for her hand again. "I'm sorry, Dana. I hate that I keep putting you through this." "I know you do." She let out a shaky breath and avoided his eyes. "Sorry. I-I'm just relieved you're going to be all right." She smiled down at him. "Of course, I could always look at it like you're giving me the opportunity to keep current in emergency medicine." "Hey Scully, why is this red?" "Quit playing with your tubes, Mulder. And yes, there's blood in your urine. You probably have a kidney contusion. But it looks better than it did last night, if that's any comfort. Speaking of which, I have your morphine. Do you need it?" "Need it, yes. But I don't want it. Not yet, anyway. It'll put me to sleep and I want to stay awake for a while." He stopped suddenly, listening intently as two all too familiar voices came down the hallway towards his room. "Come to think of it, maybe I don't really want to stay awake...." "Forget it, Mulder. You owe me. If I have to put up with them, so do you." Candy burst into the room, with Chris following on her heels. "SCOR -oh, I mean Mulder - how are you feeling, honey?" Candy plopped herself down on his bed, the sudden movement setting his shoulder and head throbbing again. She wiped the hair from back from his forehead. "Are they treating you okay?" She tried to remove his covers to survey the damage, but Mulder pinned the top sheet down firmly with his left arm. "I'm fine, Candy. Scully says I'll be able to leave in a day or two." "Well, that's good to hear," said Chris from the end of the bed. "Chris, I'm sorry we couldn't help you. You know, the whole mystery of the disappearance of the Groveton people. We're no closer now than we were," apologized Scully. "I think that perhaps there are some things that we don't need to know. I know that you and Mulder certainly would have been better off if we had just let well enough alone. We'll never know why they left. Maybe it's better that way." Candy wrinkled her nose in a frown. "Oh, I don't think so. We know what happened, right, Mulder? I mean it was aliens, wasn't it?" "Candy," Mulder glanced over to Scully, who was waiting for his answer as eagerly as Candy. "I don't think we have enough evidence in this case to say either way. Maybe aliens had something to do with the disappearance, but maybe not. Fact of the matter is we just don't know." From her chair, Scully smiled gently. She knew how hard it was for him to admit that not everything involved aliens and the paranormal, that most things had rational explanations. "So Chris, what are you and Candy going to do? Try to rebuild Groveton?" she asked, in an effort to change the subject from the uncomfortable one of aliens. She had already experienced far more than she could ever explain. "Actually, it's weird. Two weeks ago the Red Cross wouldn't give me the time of day, and now they want me to go to North Dakota to help the flood victims. They're even talking about giving me a Directorship, which would mean us moving to DC." "Oh, Chris!" Candy sprang like a tigress off the bed and wrapped her fiance in her long, elegant arms. "You never said anything about DC!" "Well, it's not definite yet. It depends...." "Wouldn't that be great, Dana? We could be neighbors, we could go shopping together! Oh Mulder, can you imagine? Maybe I could get a job in the FBI and we could work with X- Files together!" "Uh...." Scully tried to stop Candy's torrent of enthusiastic babble. God, she had to put a stop to this before it got too far. Pigs would fly before she shared that cramped office - and Mulder - with HER! She watched to see how Mulder would handle this development. "Actually, Candy, I already have a partner. She's all I need." Scully felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled. That comment was totally lost on Candy. "I think I'll start the application process to the Bureau," she mused aloud. "Surely they could use a meteorologist." "Candy, it's not definite," interjected Chris, but nothing was going to dampen her enthusiasm. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned it, but it would be such a good move for him careerwise and he was just so honored that it was even being considered. Actually, he had mentioned it more to impress Dana than for Candy's sake. "Oh, absolutely!" chimed Scully. Chris and Mulder looked startled. "I'm sure Agent McGough would just love to work with you." Agent McGough had a reputation for being a lady's man in the labs at the Bureau. Mulder would have smiled if his face didn't hurt so much. "Well, we have a plane to catch. We'd better be going. Mulder, take care of yourself." He leaned down and whispered to him, "And take care of that partner of yours." "I will, Chris, thank you. Good luck yourself." "Oh, Mulder." Candy leaned over and gave him the kind of kiss that, under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed. But there in the ICU, hurting all over, tubes running in and out of his body, he was just glad when it was over. "I'll miss you, Scorpy." "Uh...yeah. Bye Candy." She and Chris left hand in hand, Candy chattering excitedly about the prospect of living in Washington. Scully turned to Mulder and wiped a smear of Candy's lipstick from his mouth. "You don't think they'll actually move to Washington, do you?" "Maybe we can ask Skinner for a transfer. Base the X- Files in Juneau or something." "With our luck, there'd be an earthquake or a pipeline spill and they'd arrive on the scene" Scully pushed the chair closer to her partner's bedside and collapsed into it. She extended her hand through the siderails to hold his, his fingers automatically twining with hers. She noted his face was drawn and lined, and guessed the cause to be less Chris and Candy's announcement than the pain in his shoulder and head. "Want that morphine now?" "After Candy, it's a temptation. But there's too many questions I need answers to. How the hell did you ever find me, Scully?" She glanced at the monitors tracking his pulse and blood pressure. Both were up - significantly. "Tell you what - I'll answer your questions for ten minutes, Mulder. After that, I give you the pain med and you take a nap. Deal?" "Deal - so answer my question." She sighed. "I didn't find you. Chris came in, saying he had seen you taken away by some soldiers and that we had to get out of town fast before they found us. He drove us into Sebring. Except it wasn't Chris." "What do you mean, it wasn't Chris?" "It was someone we've met before - someone who can shapeshift." He stared at her. "The Bounty Hunter?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. She nodded, frowning. "When we got to the motel - a place you can recommend to NICAP, by the way - Chris was already there. I ran outside just in time to see our shapeshifting friend driving off in Chris's Jeep. He came back the next morning, as Candy this time, but I was on to him." She smiled. "He just wasn't perky enough. Anyway, he said something strange... that it was in his interest to protect you, and that he had done it before." Mulder was stunned. "Protect me? Why?" Scully shook her head. "He said that he had a mission, and to complete that mission he sometimes had to do favors for men in our government who looked the other way to allow him to do his work." "Who the hell in the government would be interested in saving my ass?" "Interesting question, isn't it? Even more interesting answer. He claims it was Cigarette Smoking Man who made the deal with him to save you." "But that just doesn't make any sense," replied Mulder, stunned. "I know." She shrugged. "Maybe he was lying. Anyway, he had managed to infiltrate the basecamp so he knew where you were." She took a deep breath and went on quickly, studying the IV pump to avoid his eyes. "Which was a good thing, since I didn't have a clue. He told me... he told me you were in bad shape, and that we had to get you out of there fast." Mulder grunted. "When beating the shit out of me didn't work, they dug up Dr. Mengele to try out his new science project on me." He raised haunted eyes to meet Scully's. "Turns out the good doctor knew my father. Worked with him on the Project. He even knew about Samantha." "Oh, Mulder." She tightened her grasp on his hand. Of all the tortures they had subjected him to, bringing up his lost sister and his father's complicity in the Project were probably hardest for him to bear. He gave her a twisted smile. "They should have used the drug first. By the time they gave it to me, I was so far out of it that I couldn't have told them anything even if I had wanted to. Not that I knew all that much." He related his discoveries in the shed. "It was a colony of clones, Mulder. The Bounty Hunter admitted as much - that he was sent down here to terminate them before they could be dispersed to start other colonies." "That's what the maps were for, then - marking the towns where the clones would be sent. Looks like they got out of town just in the knick of time, as they say. But Christ, Scully! How the hell did you know you could trust him? I mean, in the past he's whaled the shit out of both of us, kidnapped you, been anything but a good buddy.... How did you know you weren't stepping into a trap?" She shrugged. "I didn't. But my options were somewhat limited, at the time. I had no choice." Anger and fear warred for supremacy on his face. "You let him cuff you and blindfold you and lead you into that viper's nest? God damn it, Scully! You could have been tortured or raped or killed! Don't you ever take a chance like that again!" "I knew the risks, Mulder. And I accepted them. If our positions had been reversed, can you honestly say you wouldn't have taken that chance?" There was a brief pause. "No," he finally admitted. "But Jesus, Scully! When he choked you, when he threatened to turn you over to that pack of animals - " Now his vital signs were really elevated, threatening to trigger the alarms. "Settle down, Mulder, or you'll get your morphine now," she commanded, eyeing the monitors worriedly. He took some deep breaths and tried to change to a more comfortable position, until he realized that there wasn't one. His hand was so tight around hers that her fingers began to tingle. "You were so cool - acting like you didn't care...." "I know," she said apologetically. "I had to play it that way, Mulder. I knew Avin would try to use me to make you talk. And at that point, I wasn't sure our shapeshifting friend was coming back." "I kind of figured. I mean, a lot of what was going on.... I wasn't exactly with the program. I thought that's what you were doing. But it was so hard... to act like I didn't care that you were about to be gang-raped by those - " His voice caught. He paused a moment before he could go on. "I was just so afraid that...." "Yes?" "I - I was afraid that maybe you'd think I really didn't care..." "Mulder." She smiled over at him, her voice soft. She had never looked more beautiful in his eyes. "I could never think that. Do you think it was easy for me, seeing you beaten to a pulp and writhing in pain, to act like you meant nothing to me?" His eyes met hers. "What do I mean to you, Scully?" She smiled again and squeezed his fingers before extricating her hand from his, and standing. "Your ten minutes are up. Nap time, Mulder." She swabbed a port in the IV line with alcohol and slowly injected the morphine. He sighed as the drug hit his bloodstream. "You won't leave, will you, Scully?" he mumbled sleepily. Her cool fingers brushed the hair away from his eyes, off his forehead. "No, I'll be here. I won't leave you, Mulder." She caressed his cheek, his hair, feeling him relax beneath her touch. Within moments, he drifted off to sleep. "I won't leave you, Mulder," she murmured. "I'll never leave you." End of Groveton.