Angel By My Side

By Sally Bahnsen  
rbahnsen@optusnet.com.au


Rating: PG - 13

Category: MT, Angst, Adventure

Spoilers: Fallen Angel

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and the X files belong to CC
and 1013.

Summary: Mulder heads back to the woods to find Max.

Authors notes: This is a post ep for Fallen Angel and a
sequel to my story Angel in the Wings. Remember, those of
you who are looking for MSR that Fallen Angel was a season
one episode. So, there is no MSR but I have given the story
a good healthy lashing of UST and SC.

Thanks to Vickie, Mary, Kristen and Lisa for your
encouragement and beta work. This story has taken me nearly
3 years to write. RL has a bad habit of encroaching on my
spare time.


Angel By My Side.
****************



"Then what can I say? How can I disprove lies that are
stamped with an official seal? You can deny all the things
I've seen, all the things I've discovered, but not for much
longer. Because too many others know what's happening out
there. And no one, no government agency has jurisdiction
over the truth."

They stared at me with no comprehension in their
expressions. They had no idea. These men wanted me out of
the bureau. The truth: that was the last thing on their
minds.

I scooped up my file in disgust, adjusted my crutches and
hobbled towards the door. When Blevins spoke--unable to
resist hammering one last nail into my coffin--my hand was
poised over the handle.

"Don't get too comfortable down in the basement, Agent
Mulder. Your time is over."

I slammed the door behind me and leaned against the wall
in the corridor. Scully was still sitting where I'd left
her. I could feel her studying me, but I refused to meet
her gaze. For one unreasonable second my anger was aimed at
her. Last night she'd given me hope. I'd let her convince
me that by going through official channels I'd get FBI
sanction to investigate what happened to Max.

Shit!

I Frisbeed the envelope across the narrow hallway.  It
landed hard against the opposite wall and slid to the floor
in a fan of legal paper and X-rays.

Damn them!

I scrubbed at my eyes with the heels of both hands. My
head ached, my ankle hurt and I just wanted to hit
something. McGrath's image flashed through my mind.

Scully's chair creaked and then I heard the click-clack of
heels on linoleum, the short sharp rustle of papers being
gathered into a pile and then the sound of her footsteps
headed in my direction.

She was standing beside me but I refused to look at her.

"Are you done?"

Not exactly the sympathetic response I was expecting.
Lifting my head, I reached for the file.

"I've got it, Mulder. What happened in there?" She gave a
quick flick of her head towards the door behind me.

"The usual crap."

She dropped chin to chest, ran her tongue over her lips
then looked up at me. "It was a snow job, Mulder.  Those
men weren't interested . . ."

I couldn't help laughing. "What did you expect, Scully?
Every time I get close to the truth they rein me in with
their bullshit cover-ups and issues of protocol. I'd be out
on my ass today if they could get the paper work approved
fast enough."

My ankle was really starting to throb and standing was
becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I leaned more of my
weight against the wall.

Eagle-eye Scully had me pegged immediately.

"How long since you took pain medication?"  .

I shrugged. "I didn't check the time."  

The lights in the corridor seemed to fade for a second. I
blinked and they flared back to life.

"Mulder?"

"Honestly, Scully, I don't know. Maybe... a couple hours
ago? I really can't remember."

My left knee buckled suddenly.

"Um... Scully."  I swallowed hard.  "I think . . .  I
think I need to sit . . . "

"Mulder!"

Just as I started to slide, I felt her loop an arm through
mine. She seemed to be pressing me up against the wall.

The next thing I knew hard plastic was connecting with the
back of my legs and Scully was telling me to sit.  I folded
into the chair and felt pressure on the back of my neck.

"Head down, Mulder."

"What?" She was forcing my head towards my lap.

"Put your head between your legs."

"Stop it!" I shooed her hand away. "I am not putting my
head between my legs anywhere within hollering distance of
the bureau bull pen. Jeezus, Scully, don't I give them
enough to talk about around the water cooler?  Just . . .
Just give me a minute . . . I'll be okay."

It didn't take long to regain my composure. Within a few
minutes of sitting, my brain decided to quit orbiting my
skull.

"Here."

I opened my eyes to the sight of a plastic cup hovering in
front of my face. Scully was urging me to take it.

I did.

"And these."  She held out a hand displaying three white
pills rolling around her palm.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't act so surprised. You know what they are. Take them."

I did.

When I'd swallowed the pills, Scully took the plastic cup
and replaced it with my crutches.

"Do you think you can stand?"  She asked, running a
diagnostic gaze from the tips of my toes to the top of my
head.

"Guess we'll know in a second," I said, pushing myself up
and relying heavily on the crutches for balance.

With Scully's hand on my shoulder adding support, I
managed to stay upright.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. Preferring to keep my mouth for more useful
activities like chewing on my bottom lip.

"I could use some coffee, Mulder. How about it?  My treat."

"Sure..." I ground out, feeling a cold sweat break out
under my arms and along my back.  "Why not?"  

Scully cleared a path and I followed slowly in her wake
attracting only the occasional curious glances from my co-
workers.

By the time we made it to the cafeteria the smell of
freshly brewed coffee was starting to grow on me. God
knows, after last night, I could really use a caffeine fix.
Especially if the plan formulating in my mind was going to
have any chance of reaching fruition.

Scully pulled out a chair. "Sit down, Mulder."

She didn't have to ask twice, I was more than ready to
take the weight off both of my feet. She dragged over
another chair from the table next to us and without saying
anything, helped me lift my right foot up so it was resting
across the seat.  

 "Thanks." I offered, feeling somewhat humbled by the way
she was taking care of me.

She smiled. "I'll be right back."

While she was gone, I took some time to figure things out.
Scully's faith in the Bureau and its 'proper channels' had
been contagious last night. I should have known better and
trusted my instincts.  McGrath had made it clear there
wouldn't be any further investigation into Max Fenig's
disappearance. If I wanted to find him, I was going to have
to do it without the aid of Bureau resources. Not that I've
ever let that stand in my way. The ankle might be a
hindrance, but . . . I'd make do.

Scully, however, was a whole different ball game. She
couldn't come with me. My antics in Townsend had already
done more than enough damage to her reputation, simply by
association. With a bit of luck her career stood a chance
of being salvaged, while mine on the other hand, was high
tailing it straight down the toilet.

"Here you go." She plunked a bottle of orange juice on the
table followed closely by something that resembled a bagel.
Lettuce and tomato and a big glob of mayo oozed from its
sides.

"Orange juice, Scully?  I've been duped.  I distinctly
remember you offering me coffee not 5 minutes ago."

"Yes. Yes I did. And you'll get your coffee, but first you
need to eat. You nearly passed out, Mulder. It's my guess
you haven't eaten since last night."

I glared at her.

She was unmoved and simply lifted her cup, taking a
tentative sip, all the while keeping her eyes fixed firmly
on me.
 
"You're taking advantage of my helplessness, Scully. Isn't
there a clause in the medical code of ethics about that
sort of behavior?"

"Drink the juice, Mulder."

"Fine." I snapped the top and took a mouthful.

We sat in silence for a minute or two. I wondered briefly
what Scully had made of the hearing this morning; whether
she still believed that truth and justice could triumph
over evil.
 

"So... Mulder."  She took another sip of her coffee. "What
are you going to do?"

"What makes you think I'm going to do anything?" I shifted
uneasily in my seat. Scully's scrutiny was boring a hole
right through to my guilty conscience.

She gave me a 'who-are-you-trying-to-kid' look.

"You were there, Scully. The case is closed. They've got
their cover story all set in place. It's over. Officially,
Max Fenig is listed as deceased." Rehashing what I'd been
told in the hearing was only serving to rekindle my anger.

"You're just going to let it drop?"

"I don't see that I have much choice." I pushed the bagel
away from me.

"There's always a choice, Mulder. We can appeal, go over
McGrath's head."

I scrubbed at my face with both hands. She just didn't get
it. "Scully. Whose orders do you think McGrath is acting
on?  It goes all the way to the top. I'm a thorn in their
side. They want me out and I've just handed them the excuse
they've been looking for."

"What about your connection in congress?"

"My connection in congress comes to me. I don't go to him.
I'm here on his terms." My ankle was starting to throb
again. I shifted slightly to find a more comfortable
position.

"You really should get that looked at, Mulder."

"We've been through this. It's a sprain. They're only
going to tell me to do what I've already done."

"There you are, you son of a bitch!"

I turned in time to see McGrath heading in my direction.
He dropped his hand on my shoulder and spun me around. My
chair tipped back, balancing momentarily on two legs before
righting itself. The sudden movement sent my right foot
crashing to the ground. White light exploded across my
vision. Agony shot through my foot and headed all the way
to my groin. I rocked forward and curled over, reaching my
hand down to wrap around my ankle, air hissing between my
teeth.

I think I heard Scully call my name.  

McGrath wasn't finished with me. "Look at me when I'm
speaking to you."

"Fuck... off."  I ground out, not bothering to lift my
head.

He jerked me back, forcing me to look at him. His face
swam in front of me; I could just make out a stream of
saliva frothing at the corner of his mouth. The man was
definitely pissed.

"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you, Agent
Mulder?" He was trembling with the effort to keep his rage
under control. It wasn't working. "I don't know whose ass
you've crawled up, but you better get this straight--"

"Sir. Agent--"
 
"I'm not addressing you, Agent Scully." While McGrath was
distracted by Scully, I shook myself loose from his grip
and stood. In a manner of speaking. The table was playing a
very big part in keeping me upright.

"What's... your... problem, McGrath?"  I could barely
focus on him.  "You got... what you wanted.  Max Fenig is
gone. Case closed. And I'm... out of the bureau."

His fist twisted in my shirt, and his face hovered inches
from mine. He was close enough for me to see a vein
throbbing in his temple. "That's where you're wrong,
Mulder." The words were practically spat at me.  "I don't
know who you greased to get your protection, but listen to
me, and listen good. I'm going to find out. And when I do,
you --  "

"Sir! Agent Mulder is injured. I'm sure you wouldn't want
it on record, should he decide to seek compensation, that
you contributed to aggravating that injury."

McGrath shoved me back and I had to fight to keep my
balance. My ankle was on fire and my stomach was
desperately seeking a place to escape.

With a quick glance towards Scully, and one final jab of
his finger at my chest, he said, "Watch yourself, Mulder.
Your time will come when you least expect it."

And, with those kind words of departure, he turned on his
heel and strode out of the cafeteria.

My adrenaline rush was over. I slumped into the nearest
chair and let out a groan.

"Mulder?"  Scully was crouched beside me, one hand on my
knee and the other resting lightly on my shoulder.

"Shit." I breathed through my nose, hoping it would be
enough to stop myself from puking.

"Mulder, how can I help?"  

I held up my hand indicating I just needed some time.  

After a couple of minutes I had the nausea under control
and dared to straighten up.

"What the hell was that all about?"  Scully asked, slowly
rising to her feet to stand beside me.

"Your guess is as good as mine, but something's sure
yanked his shorts since we left the hearing."

"Mulder, you look like death warmed over." Scully pressed
two fingers against my neck "No more arguments, you need to
have that ankle checked out by a *practicing* doctor."

"No.  I..." But then I thought better of it.  Maybe
McGrath had done me a favor. Instead of refusing, I nodded
my head. "I think you might be right, Scully. My ankle is
really killing me."

Her expression immediately turned suspicious. "You're
willing to go to the hospital?"

I nodded again, clenching my lip between my teeth just in
case she didn't realize how bad I was hurting. And I was,
but for my plan to work, I had to be convincing.
Fortunately McGrath's manhandling had made that pretty easy.

Scully's suspicion evaporated and concern was firmly back
in place.

"Here, let me help you."  She hooked her arm under mine
and helped me to stand. The dizziness that hit the moment I
was vertical wasn't an act and I found myself clinging to
Scully. She kept one hand on my arm as she reached for my
crutches.

I arranged them under my arms and took one last steadying
breath.

Scully gave me an appraising look. "You ready?"  

I offered her a weak grin. "As I'll ever be."  


xxxXXXxxxx


Georgetown Medical Center.

12: 56 PM


I hobbled out of the exam cubicle just over two hours
after arriving at the ER. One X-ray later, a prescription
for some mighty strong painkillers, a certificate granting
me three days sick leave, and I was finally cut loose and
sent on my way.  But not without the mandatory instructions
to go straight home and rest, and no attempt at weight
bearing for at least a week. If the pain got worse then I
was to come back. Oh, and I should really check in with my
personal physician in a day or two. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I
had what I'd come for.  My license to head back to
Townsend, Wisconsin and find Max Fenig. Three days sick
leave would take me up to the weekend. That gave me 5 days
to dedicate to my search.

"Mulder!"  Scully was out of her chair like she'd been
shot from a cannon.

"Hey, Scully."  

"What did they say?"  She was peering at my ankle like she
had X-ray vision.

"No broken bones, a grade-three ligament tear. Here."  I
shoved the prescription in her hand and waved the doctor's
certificate in front of her face. "Apparently, I'm out of
action for three days. But as far as I'm concerned there's
no reason I can't go to work and take it easy there."

I had to play this just right.

"Mulder."

"No, Scully.  I . . ."

"Mulder. No is not an option. I'm taking you home now. We
can stop by the drug store on the way and get this
prescription filled."  Her tone softened. "A severe sprain
can take a long time to heal, especially if you don't take
care of it at the start."

I hung my head in resignation, letting her think she'd
won. For a second I felt about an inch tall, but in the end
she'd realize it was for her own good. Scully still had a
chance to make something of herself, and as much as I'd
love to have her by my side, I couldn't let her put herself
on the line for me again. I'd find Max, and then McGrath
and Blevins could do what they like.

Scully didn't actually check the prescription until we
arrived at the pharmacy. We were still sitting in the car
when she decided to see what the hospital had given me.

"Oxycontin?"  She pulled her eyebrows into a tight frown.
"This is a very strong painkiller, Mulder. You must be
really hurting."

I shrugged.  I *was* really hurting, but I had no
intention of taking those pain meds.

"So you're going from refusing to take any pain killers
last night to these?" She flapped the prescription to
emphasize her point.

"Hey, I didn't ask for them, Scully. The doc just wrote
out the paperwork."

"Did he explain the side effects?"

"He said something about not driving or operating heavy
machinery. I can't drive anyway," I indicated my freshly
bound ankle now sporting a fiberglass half-cast, "and I've
never operated anything heavier than a can opener so I
guess I'm pretty safe."

She didn't look any more convinced. "Just make sure you
read the instructions before you take them."

I gave her a sidelong glance. You put a pill in your mouth
and you swallow it with water. What the hell do I need
instructions for?  But out loud I promised her I'd read
every word.

By the time we made it back to my apartment, I was
reconsidering my decision not to take the meds. My ankle
throbbed mercilessly. The cold sweat was back in full force
and the feeling that I needed to toss my cookies was
increasing by the minute.

I eased myself onto the couch and pulled my leg up so it
was stretched along the length of the seat. The pain was
bordering on excruciating and I had to fight to stop myself
from whimpering.

Scully, ever diligent in her quest to better my health,
slipped two cushions under my foot, and as gentle as she
was the movement pushed the pain just that little bit past
bearable and I groaned unashamedly.

I managed to slither down so I was lying flat on my back
and then pushed my hands against my eyes, trying to
concentrate on anything but the continuous throb below my
knee. I could hear Scully moving around the apartment, but
I wasn't interested in what she was doing.

 Until I felt her tap me on the shoulder.

I hitched an eye open and found a glass of water being
thrust towards me. One day, she might surprise me and
thrust something a little more enticing in my direction.

"Jeezus, Mulder. You look like shit."

I didn't bother answering her.

Along with the water she handed me a pill.

"What's that?"

She looked at me like I was the prize idiot in a class
full of remedial students.

I shook my head. "I know it's a pain pill, Scully, but
which one?"  I'd go for a Tylenol but the oxy-whatever-the-
hell-they-were wouldn't be going anywhere near my lips.

Her expression screamed sarcasm, but she must have felt
sorry for me because she went on to explain that they were
in fact the Oxycontin and proceeded to hand me their
accompanying novel-length instruction manual.

I palmed the pill and drank all the water, then settled
down to suffer in silent agony until Scully decided I could
cope on my own.

"Are you going to be okay?"  She'd seated herself on the
coffee table beside me. "I'm not sure I should leave you
alone." She scanned my apartment, her gaze finally resting
on the computer. "You know, there's no reason I couldn't
type up the report here."

Shit no!! That would ruin everything.

"Scully, great idea, but... you know... I'm really tired
and, well... when I'm in pain, I kind of like to be alone."
I was reaching. And not doing it very well. "And besides,
most of my case notes are at the office. You're going to
need those to write up your report."

She mulled that over for a few seconds.  "You're trying to
get rid of me."

Damn.

Okay, best tactic. Play up the pain, which would be no
problem at all, or play it down?

 Or...

"Look, Scully. Why don't we both go back to the office?
Once the pain med kicks in, I'll be fine. With the two of
us working it should be done in no time." I made a half-
hearted effort at rising.

"No!  You're not moving off that couch. And you're right.
If I worked on the report here I know you'd be constantly
looking over my shoulder." She stood. "I'll go back to the
office, get started and come back tonight. By then you'll
be well rested and if you think there's anything I need to
add we can do it then."

Phew!

I slumped down against the armrest. That was close.

"Do you need anything before I go?"

I looked around the apartment. My crutches were propped
against the wall next to the couch within easy reaching
distance.

"Nope. I'm just going to lie here and sleep this off." My
self-loathing was climbing by the second.

She smiled at me and touched me on the shoulder. "If the
pain gets worse or you start exhibiting any of those side
effects, call me." She nodded towards the instruction
manual. "Oh, and I'll bring dinner."

I felt like a real jerk.

"Thanks."  I managed to choke out.

She gave me one last look and then left the apartment.

I waited a minute or two then reached up and grabbed the
phone directory from my desk.

xxxXXXxxx

Angel by My Side  - part 2



Tuesday.

2:00 PM

I had just over three hours before my flight to Wisconsin
departed.

The first thing I had to do was find the Tylenol Scully
had left for me last night.  I wouldn't be going anywhere
unless I got some pain relief soon.

If my memory served me right, they should have been in the
bathroom.

And they were.
 
I popped three pills and slipped the bottle into my pants
pocket. My ability to move through the woods depended on
them coming with me.

The hiking boots I'd worn yesterday sat in the corner of
my bedroom. Somehow I was going to have to get both of them
on.

By the time I'd lost the cast, re-bandaged my ankle and
pulled on a pair of jeans, sweat was pouring down my face.

Fighting a wave of dizziness, I maneuvered the boot over
my right ankle and tied the laces.
 
After a few deep breaths, I summoned the strength to
search for my backpack, eventually finding it where I'd
dumped it the night before. I needed to travel light, so
this was all I'd be taking with me. It already contained
pretty much everything I'd require, but I checked its
contents anyway. Flashlight, evidence kit, map, compass,
clean shorts. I added sweat pants, a t-shirt, my cell phone
and keys. On my way to the airport, I'd be collecting my
secret weapon: a Minnox spy camera. Small enough to quickly
store in my pocket in case of prying eyes.

Hitching the backpack over my shoulders, I gave my
apartment one last scan before grabbing my jacket and
calling a cab. A pang of guilt reminded me I was ditching
my partner. A self-righteous voice in my head countered
that it was for her own good.

I wondered briefly if she'd see it that way.

xxxXXXxxx

The cab ride was uneventful, the plane trip was torture. 

The plane was crowded. My crutches were stored up front
and I was allocated a window seat.  Legroom was damn near
non-existent and every time I tried to find a comfortable
position I elbowed the guy next me. His crossword puzzle
mainly consisted of scribbled pen marks where letters
should have been.

Half an hour out from the airport, I was about ready to
chew my right foot off. I sat with my fingers wrapped
around the armrests in a white-knuckled grip and my jaw was
clenched so tight my teeth were actually aching.

By the time we were landing in Chicago, I was certain the
guy in the next seat was going to pull a gun and shoot me.
In fact, at that point I was almost willing to let him.

The connecting flight was a little kinder. I managed to
snag an aisle seat and while the space by the window was
occupied, the middle was vacant. I was able to move around
without putting my life in danger.


Green Bay Airport

9:07 PM


Just after landing, I waved down a cab and told the driver
I wanted to go to Townsend. He looked like all his
Christmases had come at once. Then suspicion reminded him
to ask for a deposit. I handed it over and crawled across
the back seat. Using my backpack as a pillow, I stretched
out my right leg and closed my eyes. Despite the pain in my
ankle, I think I was asleep before we hit the city limits.

"Hey, buddy, wake up."  Someone was shaking me. I pushed
the hand away.

"Hey! We're here!" The volume increased; and when my head
cracked against the window, I became fully alert.

Pushing myself up and massaging the crick from neck, I
peered out at the driver. He had the back door open and was
staring at me impatiently. "You gonna get out or what?"

I grunted and slid along the seat toward the open door. He
took a step back as I eased myself out of the car, using
the door for support. I scrubbed at my face and pulled my
wallet from my back pocket. "How much?" 

When he told me the fare I nodded and exchanged the money
for my crutches. He touched two fingers to his head in a
mock salute and left me to my own devices.

I'd chosen a different motel from where I'd stayed last
time. No point in advertising I was back in Townsend.

The Trails Motel stood against a backdrop of pure black.
It was a single storey 'L' shaped building with an office
at the front. Three cars occupied the parking lot, their
front ends facing towards the rooms.  There were no other
signs of civilization.  I checked my watch. It was nearly
11:00.

I made my way to reception and checked in.

My room smelled of mildew and stale cigarette smoke.  A
Queen bed dominated the space immediately to my left; a
single lined the far wall. There was a small round table
with 2 wooden chairs jammed into one corner; the only other
furnishing was a counter that ran the width of the room
opposite the bed. A TV sat on top, a 4 cup coffee maker, 2
cups and various packets of coffee and tea beside it.

Dropping my backpack beside the table, I turned the TV on
and hit the mute button then shut off the overhead light in
favor of the small bedside lamp.  I leaned my crutches
against the wall and collapsed on the bed.

I felt light headed and my hands were shaking. When my
stomach grumbled I realized I was actually hungry.  At this
time of night my choices were going to be limited.

Sifting through a meager pile of advertising brochures, I
found a Golden Eagle Pizza menu.  When I placed the order I
was told I'd have a 40-minute wait.

I gave some thought to having a shower.

But first I needed to get my shoes off.   I undid the
laces and kicked off the left boot, then eased the other
carefully from my right foot. The thudding in my ankle
increased to the point where I was seeing stars. For a
second, I wondered what the hell I'd been thinking.  How
was I going to make the three-mile trek through the woods
back to the crash site? But then I heard Max's voice in my
head. "I'm scared, don't let them take me." And then there
was my own promise to keep him safe.  McGrath and his
threats, the official finding that Max was dead, they all
combined to strengthen my resolve, and I knew that no
matter what it took, I had to find him. Or at least find
the proof I needed to expose their cover up.

I decided to brave the shower. Carefully, I removed the
bandage from my ankle and examined the damage.  It was red
and purple and fat. If I had any chance of fitting my boot
on tomorrow, I was going to have to get the swelling down.
But right now I needed to do something about the pain.

I grabbed my backpack and started sifting through the
contents. The Tylenol was nowhere to be seen. And then I
remembered . . . Dammit! They were still in my pants pocket
back in D.C. I threw my bag at the table with a little more
force than I intended and it slid to the floor.

Scrubbing at my face with both hands, I let out a long
breath. Shit! I'd been getting by so far, knowing I had
relief at hand when I wanted it, but now... I suddenly felt
like a shipwreck victim without a life raft.

By the time I'd finished showering, I could barely stand.
Lack of food and constant pain were sapping me of what
little energy I had left. I hopped from the bathroom to the
bed and collapsed across the mattress, wearing only the
bath towel around my waist. Despite having just spent 10
minutes under a steaming spray of hot water, I couldn't
stop shivering.

When the knock came at the door I was almost tempted to
ignore it. But I needed to eat. So, I levered myself off
the bed, grabbed a twenty out of my wallet and hopped to
the door on one crutch.

I pulled on the handle and . . .

Oh, shit!

"You ditched me."

"Scully?"

"You were expecting someone else?"

"As a matter of-"

A shadow moved behind her then stepped into the light.
"Pizza order for . . ." The young pimply-faced kid checked
his docket.  " . . . Mulder?"

We all exchanged bewildered glances.

I handed the kid his money. "Keep the change." 

He grinned appreciatively, his confusion momentarily
forgotten. "Thanks."

"She'll take it." I nodded towards Scully and he shoved
the box in her direction.

Standing was making me dizzy and the breeze coming through
the open door was making me shiver harder. I made it back
to the bed in one hop and sat down heavily.

"Pizza, Scully?  I'm sure there's enough for two." The
words stuttered through my chattering teeth.

She came in, closed the door and placed the cardboard box
on the table. The smell was making my stomach growl but
suddenly I had no desire to eat.

I sat, enduring Scully's scrutiny as she ran an appraising
eye over my entire body. When her gaze landed on my ankle
she lost her composure.

"What the hell is going on, Mulder?"

I was fast losing all ability to think beyond the agony
pulsing in my foot. Pain, exhaustion, and, strangely
enough, guilt were fast relieving me of what little
patience I had managed to hang onto.  I did not want to
have this discussion now.

"You wouldn't have any Tylenol, would you, Scully?"

She glared at me for a second then reached into her coat
pocket and slammed a bottle of pills on the table next to
the pizza.

"I found these in your apartment."

I licked my lips and swallowed hard.  The room grayed out
on me for a second, and I was still shivering.  I knew what
they were, and, in the absence of Tylenol, were starting to
look pretty damn good.

Scully folded her arms across her chest, her gaze drifting
back to my ankle. "Where's your cast?"

I thought I detected a thaw in her voice. And if her
expression was anything to go by, she seemed torn between
the urge to kill and the need to doctor me.

"No cast. Just a bandage. Over there." I pointed to the
tangled strip of cloth lying on top of my jeans.

She walked over to where my clothes were piled on the
counter.  I took the opportunity to scoot along the length
of the bed and finally get my feet off the floor. Every
movement I made highlighted the pain, and I gripped the
quilt, twisting it in my fists in an effort to keep from
groaning.

The room was taking on a surreal atmosphere; my breathing
grew loud in my ears, shallow and desperate.

I thought I heard Scully speaking to me, her voice seeming
to come from a long way off.

"Mulder, look at me." I felt a hand on my shoulder. 

"Sc . . . Scully, please. N . . . not now."

I crept one hand down to cup my ankle, but even that light
pressure was agony. This time I couldn't hold back the
groan.

Her hand left my shoulder and two fingers settled against
my neck.  My shivering increased.

"Did you bring a change of clothes?"

"Mmm.  B . . .b . . . b . . . backpack."  I waved my hand
in the general direction of the table and curled into a
tight ball.

A few seconds later I felt the mattress dip beside me. I
resisted the temptation to gravitate towards Scully's
warmth.

"Mulder?"

"Y . . . y . . . yeah."

"I want you to get dressed. Can you sit up for me?"

If 'ET' himself were to walk into the room and offer me
all the secrets of the universe, sitting up still wouldn't
be an option.

"C . . . Can't."

She sighed.

"Mulder, listen to me. You need to get warm."

No fucking kidding.  It was cold enough to freeze tequila
in here. But I didn't move an inch.

"Okay, just your T-shirt then."

She tugged gently on my arm and this time I went with her.

Scully pulled the shirt over my head and help me slip my
arms through the holes.  Then I lay down again, hugging my
knees to my chest. I was so fucking cold.

The mattress rose and I heard Scully moving around the
room.  A minute later she was back, piling blankets on top
of me. I craved the warmth but it made me shiver harder.

"Mulder?  I know you're hurting, if you want me to help
you, you need to listen to me, okay?"

I nodded my head.

"I'm going to give you one of the painkillers prescribed
at the hospital. But I want you to 1`eat something. Can you
do that?"

I nodded again.  At this point I'd do anything for relief.

"Good. I'm sorry, I know it hurts you to move, but you
need to sit up."  I felt her grab the other pillow and push
it behind my head. "Come on, I'll help you."

It was an act of precision timing. I'm not sure how she
accomplished it but as I pushed myself up she kept the
blankets tucked around my shoulders with one hand and
shoved a pillow under my right calf with the other.

My head felt like I had a swarm of bees vibrating in it.

"How are you doing?"

I grunted.

Scully fussed with the blankets some more, eased another
pillow under the one supporting my leg and then headed
towards the mini bar.

She returned with an orange juice, the pizza box and the
bottle of pills.

In awe, I watched my partner operate like a well-oiled
machine.

"Here." She handed me the juice and a pill. I didn't
hesitate in swallowing either.

Scully sat beside me. "Do you think you can handle the
pizza?"

I answered by reaching out and grabbing a slice from the
box. My stomach balked, but I forced down a bite.

Food and I hadn't exactly been on good terms recently; I
chewed slowly and swallowed tentatively.  Scully studied me
like she expected me to self-destruct at any second. When I
took another bite she stood.

"I'll be right back."  And she disappeared out the door.

I had a feeling she wasn't done with me.  Her doctoring
was just a temporary distraction from the real issue at
hand and I wasn't looking forward to the confrontation.

I managed to finish two slices of pizza and down all the
juice before Scully returned.  She had a bag of ice in one
hand and an overnight bag in the other. She had obviously
come prepared to stay.

The bag was relegated to the floor beside my backpack, the
ice she dumped on the table. Shucking off her coat, Scully
rolled up her sleeves and then headed to the bathroom,
returning with a small towel. She wrapped it around the bag
of ice.

"We've got to get the swelling down, Mulder." Peering at
my bruised and battered ankle she shook her head slowly as
if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. I just wasn't
sure if her disbelief was aimed at my injury, or the depth
of my stupidity.

Either way, when she put the ice on my ankle I nearly went
through the roof. Pizza hovered momentarily at the back of
my throat but I kept it down. Hissing loudly, I fought the
urge to pull my foot away from the ice pack. Instead, I
performed another death grip on the quilt, squeezing and
twisting it in my fist.

I was shaking again, but didn't feel cold. Sweat broke out
across my brow and also dribbled between my shoulder blades.

"Oh God, Scully."

She laid a hand on my thigh, rubbing gently. "I'm sorry. I
know it hurts but there's no other way."

I ran a continuous mantra of expletives through my mind,
but didn't manage to achieve any degree of transcendental
meditation. My consciousness remained firmly anchored to
the here and now, heightened and in tune to every single
throb in my ankle.

"Lie down, Mulder."

I was happy to comply. Gritting my teeth, I let her help
me get flat on my back. She slipped another pillow under my
leg. I closed my eyes and practiced heroic acts of macho
stoicism.  Somehow, though, I figured my reputation in the
macho department had taken a serious nosedive in the past
24 hours.

After awhile I realized the pain had started to subside.
There was a warm buzz in my head and soothing lethargy
creeping along my limbs. I was feeling better by the second.

"Scully?" 

She turned to look at me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't that be my question, Mulder? What the hell do
you think you're playing at?"

"I've got to find Max."

Scully's look was incredulous. "With this?" She indicated
my ankle.

I didn't answer.

"Mulder. Look at you!" 

I still didn't say anything.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, but the vibes
radiating off Scully could have ignited charcoal. She was
not happy. And I knew she was holding herself in check.

She lifted the ice and inspected my ankle.  "How exactly
were you planning on finding Max?"

"I'm going back to the crash site. Ground Zero."

Now it was her turn not to answer. I could see her tongue
working the inside of her cheek.

"I have a plan, Scully."

Her head snapped around, eyes blazing, but she caught
herself and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly
through her nose.  She left the ice pack in place and
picked up the tangled bandage.  Smoothing the edge on her
knee, she started rolling it.

Her silence was beginning to unnerve me.

"Scully?"

"I need to wrap your ankle."

Her less than amicable attitude was taking the edge off my
pain-free euphoria.  I sat up, and gasped. Perhaps 'pain-
free' was a little premature.

"Scully, listen to me."

Something seemed to snap. She rounded on me, eyes bright
with unbridled fury, nostrils flaring.

"Listen to you?  Mulder, you are so full of shit that I'm
not sure you know where the truth ends and the lies begin.
You let me believe . . .   Dammit, Mulder!"  She stood,
arms crossed defensively over her chest, bottom lip
clenched firmly in her teeth. She paced the small area at
the end of the bed.

"Scully . . .  do you want some pizza?"

The pacing halted and she glared at me. 

I suddenly realized I was still wrapped in only my towel
from the waist down. I shrugged off the blankets and eased
my legs over the edge of the bed. My foot started to throb
again.

"Mulder! What are you doing?"

I scanned the room for my backpack and saw it tucked in
the corner near the table.  Carefully I pushed myself up.
Tiny spots danced across my vision and my left knee
quivered dangerously.

"Mulder!"  The next thing I knew, Scully was lowering me
to the bed while my pulse hammered in my ears. Scully's
hand was on the back of my neck forcing my head down. I
figured I was far enough away from the bullpen to avoid
unwanted attention so I went with the flow. 

I'm not sure how long I stayed like that but eventually
Scully let me up. "Are you all right?"

I nodded slowly and crawled back along the bed. My head
was throbbing almost as hard as my ankle.

"What were you doing?"

I stared at her and let the words seep through the fog in
my brain.  "I . . . I want my sweat pants."

"Mulder. Stay put." She sounded tired. "I'm going to wrap
your ankle."

I closed my eyes and tried to relax while Scully worked on
my foot.

"I do have a plan, you know." 
 
"Yes, Mulder, I'm sure you do."

*Yes, dear, now come along and talk to the nice man in the
white coat.* I was starting to resent her patronizing tone.

I propped myself up on my elbows. Immediately the room
started spinning, and I flopped back against the pillows.

With my eyes closed, I spoke to the ceiling, starting on
my campaign trail to convince Scully that I wasn't a nut
case headed on a path of self-destruction.

"Think about it, Scully. Max is the victim of multiple
abductions. He told me he would wake up in strange places
with no recollection of how he got there."

She tugged on the bandage. An electric current shot up my
leg and reflexively I pulled back.

"Sorry."

"Scully . . . in the past, he's always been returned.
He's out there.  I know it."

"So?  What if he is?  This ankle is a mess, Mulder. How
long do you think you'd last traipsing around the forest?"

I assumed it was a rhetorical question and didn't answer.

She finished binding my ankle and clipped the bandage in
place, then turned so she was facing me.

"Well?"

Okay, so it wasn't rhetorical.

I pushed myself up again, waited out the dizziness, then
sat with my back against the headboard. 

"I would have been okay. And, anyway, that's not what's
important. A man's life is at stake here. A sprained ankle
isn't going to kill me."  I swung my legs over the side of
the bed and grabbed my sweats.

"Mulder. If you move off that bed again, I will shoot you."

"Would you hand me my shorts, please?"

With a look that would freeze Lake Michigan, she handed me
my underwear.

I eased them over my feet and pulled them to my knees,
pausing until Scully got the message and turned her head.
When I had them all the way up, I lost the towel and pulled
on my sweat pants. It's amazing what you can do when your
every move isn't met with excruciating agony.  I had to
admit the doctor who prescribed the oxy-whatever-they-were
really knew his stuff.

"I'm going to show you something, Scully."

"Mulder, I meant what I said about moving off that bed.  I
will shoot you."

"You won't shoot me."

"You really want to test out that theory?"

Her hand hovered just above her holster.

"Fine, pass me the backpack."

She did.

I rummaged around until I found the map and spread it out
on the bed between us.  "Look at this."  I indicated the
small red circle I'd drawn when I first arrived in Townsend
5 days ago.

"This is the crash site."

"Yes, and if what you told me is true, it's a fifteen-mile
hike through State Forest to get there."

"No. No, not necessarily. It was fifteen miles when I had
to cut through the woods to avoid being detected."  I ran
my finger along one of the red lines dissecting a large
area of green.  "This is the main road.  Along this
section," again I pointed, "is where the military set up
the road blocks. I estimate that it stops about six miles
out from ground zero.  But look here."  This time I pointed
to a smaller set of broken lines running parallel to the
red.  "When I was hiking through the woods I noticed a
narrow trail.  You can't see it from the main road, and
you'd never get a car or truck along it, but . . .  What
are you driving, Scully?"

"A silver Alero, why?"

"We should be able to trade it for a jeep."

"Mulder!"

"Just . . .  just hear me out. If we take the dirt trail
we can get at least another three miles closer to the site.
That only leaves another two or three to travel on foot."

She laughed quietly, her head shaking slowly from side to
side.  There was no trace of humor in her eyes.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm going to find, him, Scully. With or without your help."

"Mulder, this is insane."

"No! You know what's insane, Scully? Do you?"  She opened
her mouth to reply.  I held up my hand. "I'll tell you. A
government that is willing to go to any lengths to hide the
truth. A military that allows innocent civilians to be
taken against their will by extraterrestrial beings and
then plies the media with bullshit cover stories of toxic
spills and train wrecks!" In frustration I pushed myself to
my feet, inadvertently putting all my weight on both feet.
"Jeezus! Fuck!"  I dropped back onto the bed, clutching my
ankle; eyes squeezed shut and my breath hissing through my
teeth.

I became aware of Scully crouching beside me a minute or
two later. Her expression held nothing but sympathy. When
she spoke, her tone was gentle.  "I know you want to help
Max. But look at yourself. Do you honestly think you're
going to be able to make it over three miles of uneven
terrain on a pair of crutches?  It's crazy."

"Maybe so, Scully, but I am going to do it."


XxXXXXXxxxx

Angel by My Side - Part 3


Wednesday 

7:03 am

It was a pressing need to use the men's room and a mouth
as dry as the Mojave Desert that eventually woke me.

Although my head felt as if I'd done a hard night with a
bottle of Jack, a quick shower had washed away most of the
cobwebs and cleared my mind. Even the pain in my ankle had
lessened to a dull ache and some of the swelling had gone
down. Things were looking better by the minute.

Except for Scully's faith, or lack thereof, in my plan.

"You're really going to go through with this, aren't you,
Mulder."

"Uh huh."

"And nothing I say will convince you otherwise?"

"Nope. Nothing."  I folded the map and shoved it into the
backpack.

"Okay, then."

I feather-hopped across the room and pulled on my
sweatshirt. "Okay then, what?"

"Okay, I'm coming with you."

I stopped with my head still covered and one arm through a
sleeve. "You don't have to do that," I said, my voice
muffled through the fleece lining.

Pulling my head through the neck hole, I gave her a long
look. She was standing against the table, dressed in jeans,
sweater and waterproof parka. Her feet were clad in hiking
boots at least half the size of mine. She was chewing her
lip.

"I mean it, Scully. There's no point in both of us
destroying our careers. If you leave now, you can be back
at work by lunchtime."

"No, I won't. Or maybe I should say I can't."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say it was strongly recommended that I take a
few days off to reconsider my career options."

"They suspended you?"

"Not in so many words."  She sighed and sat on the end of
the bed. "After I left you yesterday, I was called in to
Blevins' office." She laced and unlaced her fingers,
studying them closely as she spoke. "I was told to take
some personal time, reconsider my priorities, to give some
thought as to where my loyalties lie."

"Did they say anything about me?"

She lifted her head, chin thrust forward and a hard glint
of defiance in her eyes. "Only that since you had time off
anyway, that I was to inform you that you should also use
that time wisely to consider your future with the Bureau."

"Bastards."  I reached for my leather jacket. "Scully . . .
I'm sorry I got you . . ."

"No, Mulder. This isn't just about you. Or the X files. In
a way . . .  maybe they're right. I'm not so sure that the
FBI holds the interest for me that it once did." She
dropped her gaze and shook her head slowly. "You were right
last night. The lies, the cover-ups . . .   I don't know
that I want to work for men like McGrath or Blevins . . .
I don't want to compromise what I know to be right so it
fits in with their private agenda. I didn't join the FBI to
do someone's dirty work."

I limped towards her.

"No weight-bearing, Mulder.  Use the crutches."

I ignored her advice.

"Scully . . . "

She handed me the crutches anyway and looked me in the
eye. "After the meeting, I went back to your apartment to
'relay' my orders."  Her expression turned hard again.
"Only you weren't there."

I opened and closed my mouth ineffectually. She held up a
hand to stop me before I could think of anything to say.

"I thought we were partners, Mulder.  I thought at least
after the other night . . ." She stopped herself, looked
quickly down at her hands, seemed to regroup and then
continued.  "I thought we'd established a certain level of
trust. And yet . . .  now I see that the trip to the
hospital, the doctor's certificate, it was all an elaborate
plan to divert me so you could sneak back to Townsend on
your own."

"Scully, it wasn't like that."

"Oh really, then how was it, Mulder? Because from where
I'm sitting it's pretty damn difficult to see it any other
way."

I leaned the crutches against the wall and sat beside her.

"Scully, my career is already in the toilet. It doesn't
matter what I do, the Bureau is going to find a way to get
rid of me. It's just a matter of 'when'." I rubbed my hands
over my eyes. "I thought . . .  I'd *hoped* that if I went
alone, then you could at least salvage your reputation
before the 'Spooky Mulder' tag tarnished your record
forever.  This is my quest, Scully. It always has been and
you're being used as a pawn to aid them in shutting down
the X files. If I find Max, if I find the evidence to prove
the cover up, then maybe I'll have a chance. If I don't -
then I can kiss my job goodbye.  If I'd taken you with
me, I'd be condemning you to the same fate."

We sat in silence for a few seconds, Scully again
intensely studying her clasped hands. Eventually, she
lifted her head and turned her gaze on me. "That's not your
call, Mulder. It's mine.  As long as the X Files are
operating, and until I hear different, I'm still your
partner.  And while I might not agree with your methods, I
do agree with your sentiment.  I'm a big girl. I can take
care of myself and my career."

I snorted a quiet laugh. She was reacting exactly how I
thought she would. "Point taken," I conceded and then
wondered, "How did you find me?"

"Mulder, you left a trail even a kindergarten child could
follow. Why didn't you take precautions?"

"I wasn't exactly thinking straight when I left. Not
everything about the trip to the ER was a set up." 

She looked down at my ankle.  "How is it?"

"I'll live."  I stood and grabbed the crutches then
scooped up my backpack.  "Ready to go?"

"Not so fast, Mulder.  I told you. If we do this, we do it
right." She nodded towards the bag on my back. "What's in
there?"

I shrugged it off and handed it to her. She rifled through
the contents, pulling each item out and laying it on the
bed beside her. When she came to the camera she turned it
over in her hands, examining it with the scrutiny of a
customs officer. "This isn't exactly bureau issue, Mulder.
Where did it come from?"

I shrugged. "Just some guys I know. They're into that kind
of thing."

"Hmmm. Where's your weapon?"

"I left it back in DC. I didn't want to have to explain I
was with the Bureau when I boarded the plane."

After checking everything she repacked the bag.  "Okay,
before we go anywhere, we need some supplies.  Food, water
. . .  "She gave me an accusing look. "A first aid kit."

"And a jeep." I added

"And a jeep."  She stood and moved to the table, picking
up the bottle of prescription painkillers.

"No!  Not those, Scully. If you're going for supplies, get
some Tylenol. Those things," I pointed to the bottle, "make
me feel as if my head's been sucked through a vacuum. I
can't afford to be half asleep out there."

Closing up my backpack, she handed it to me and then
scooped up her car keys. "You wait here, Mulder. I should
be back in an hour or so. And keep that foot elevated. The
more you get the swelling down, the easier it will be on
you."

XxxxXXXXxxxx

Two hours later, we made a right off Route 32 and picked
up one of the minor roads. My guess was we'd need to travel
another ten miles before coming to the place where I'd seen
the dirt trail.

Scully had stacked both my backpack and hers with enough
water and food to supply a small army. Despite my protests,
she'd insisted it was necessary.

The forest was green and lush; there was no evidence of
current military activity. I had to congratulate them on
their clean-up job.

We traveled another thirty minutes before the scenery
started to become familiar.

"Slow down, Scully."  I moved forward in my seat, both
hands gripping the dashboard as I peered through the
windshield.

Scully shifted through the transmission, the jeep let out
a laborious whine as she cut our speed to ten miles an
hour. We crawled along for another two miles before I
spotted the clearing.

"There!"  I pointed to an area about a hundred yards ahead
to the left.

We pulled off the main road, the jeep bumping and lurching
over potholes and rocks. Every shudder reverberated
painfully through my ankle, and I had to force myself not
to grind my teeth. We made it onto a relatively flat, if
somewhat narrow, trail.
 
I let out a long breath and shifted restlessly in my seat.
Again, I found myself simultaneously questioning the wisdom
of this exercise and thanking God that Scully was with me.

It was another forty-five minutes of careful maneuvering
on Scully's part and serious teeth clenching on mine before
the trail petered out to a mass of tangled brush and
heavily wooded pines.

"This is the end of the line, Mulder."  Scully said,
flexing her fingers.

We climbed out and she handed me my crutches and backpack,
shrugging into hers as she surveyed the area. She turned
back to me, gave the crutches some consideration, then
looked me square in the eye. "You've got to be kidding,
Mulder."

I looped a finger under the straps of my backpack,
adjusting it slightly, then leaned on the crutches and
propelled myself forward. "We're wasting time, Scully."

With one final shake of her head, she fell into step
beside me.

XxxXXXxxx

An hour later my wrists were aching, my underarms felt as
if they'd been rubbed raw and my ankle throbbed ruthlessly.

I was beginning to think this wasn't one of my smartest
ideas. And judging by the expression on Scully's face, for
once, she was in total agreement.

But no matter how bad I felt, there was no way I'd admit
that to her. Not in this life time anyway.

Regular stops for long guzzles of water filled my stomach
to the point of nausea. Regardless of the quantity I drank,
there was no shaking the dry, gluggy feel in my mouth.  And
every now and then, the forest sounds would blend into a
monotonous hum that dulled my hearing and blurred my
vision.

No, this was definitely not one of my more ingenious plans.

After the third time of snagging my crutches in tangled
undergrowth and nearly landing head-first on the ground, I
finally conceded defeat. At least temporarily

"Scully! Wait up."

I knelt on one leg, letting the crutches drop beside me
and gulped in some long, deep breaths.

"Mulder. What's the matter?" Scully was squatting, one
hand on my shoulder.

I squinted at her, watching her face swim in front of me.
"I . . . I . . .  just need to rest a minute."

She hooked her arm under one of mine and pulled. "Over
here, Mulder. There's a log we can sit on."

I hopped the few yards to the fallen tree trunk, Scully
supporting me with one hand and carrying the crutches in
the other.

Sitting was good, and relief from the vertigo was almost
immediate. None of Scully's head-between-the-knees tactics
were necessary.

The only thing I still had to contend with was the throb
in my foot and an unquenchable thirst. I pulled out a
bottle of water and slugged back half its contents before
coming up for air. Then I complained to Scully.

"Mulder, that's one of the side effects from the
Oxycontin. Dry mouth, nausea, dizziness . . . shall I go
on?"

Twelve hours later and I was still suffering the side
effects. Pity they weren't so long lasting when it came to
relieving pain.

"Where's the Tylenol?" I asked, massaging my ankle through
the thick hide of my boot.

Scully slipped her backpack off and pulled out the first
aid kit.  A few seconds later I'd downed two pills and the
rest of the water.

"How much further, Mulder? Are you sure we're still going
in the right direction?"

"I'll check," I said, retrieving the compass from my
pocket.  The needle spun in all directions before finally
settling in one position. I sought backup from the sun --
what little could be seen through the trees -- and got my
bearings. So far so good.

"Right on target, Scully.  We should reach the site in
another hour, maybe an hour and a half."  I left out the
bit about it depending on my progress. With some luck, the
painkillers would keep me focused on the task at hand. And
maybe with a sugar hit, I'd be even better.

I pulled a Hershey's bar from my backpack and started
unwrapping it. Scully let out a muted sigh.  When I looked
at her, she was standing with her hands on her hips, eyeing
the candy bar like I was about to bite the head off a
rattle snake.

"What?" 

She shook her head. "Nothing, Mulder. Go ahead and eat."

I took a bite of the candy.

Scully shook her head again and reached inside her own
backpack for a sandwich.

Two more bites and my chocolate bar was gone. Rummaging
around in my pack I found a Snickers and started to unwrap
it with equal enthusiasm.

"Mulder!"

The candy bar slipped from my grasp. "What?" I asked,
picking it up from between my feet and dusting off the dirt.

"You've got three sandwiches in there and you're just
going to eat candy?"

"I like candy."

Scully huffed her disapproval and shook her head.

I ate.

And then I opened another bottle of water and drank half
of it.

I felt like a new man.

Scully swallowed the last bite of her sandwich and reached
for her water.  I stood; ready to go and fidgeting with
anticipation.

"Come on, Scully."

After a quick sip, she screwed the top back on her bottle,
placed it in her backpack and came to stand beside me.

"That way." I indicated along the imaginary path with a
nod of my head.

"Let's go, then." Scully took the lead and I followed
behind, refreshed with a new lease of energy and more
determined than ever to find Max.


XXXxxxXXX


There have been a number of times in recent months when
I've considered that maybe I should pay more attention to
my partner. Of course, hindsight is a wonderful thing, and
that's usually when I've achieved such great leaps of
mental awareness. Forty-five minutes after our snack stop,
I reluctantly had to admit that yet again, Scully was
right. My energy levels petered out to nothing. Lethargy
hung over my body like a wet blanket and I had to fight to
keep my eyes open. Naturally, this had an extremely adverse
affect on my balance; the crutches were beginning to feel
like I was swinging sticks of lead and on more than one
occasion I ended up with my face buried in decaying
vegetation and spitting dirt from my mouth. 

By the time we found the crash site, my hands were
trembling and my knees felt like they were made of rubber.
The only thing keeping me upright was pure adrenaline.

"So, Mulder, this is it? I don't see anything."

"Up there."  I pointed to the top of a slight incline.
"Just over the rise."

She looked down at my foot, frowning.  "Are you going to
be able to make it?" 

"Hey, I've come this far, haven't I? I'll make it."

By the time we made it to the top I threw my crutches to
the ground, collapsed on my knees and puked my guts out. I
felt Scully's gaze boring into me, but there were no self-
righteous remarks of 'I told you so'. And God knows she had
every right to let me have it.

"Are you done?"

I grunted and rolled onto my left side, breathing deeply
and swiping at my mouth.

"Here, Mulder." Scully handed me a bottle of water. I
rinsed and then took a long swallow.

"Shit." I managed to gasp out.

"Shit, indeed."  Scully said, reaching for the bottle.

I raised my eyebrow and gave her an inquiring look, but
she'd shifted her attention away from me and was scanning
the area around us.

"Are you sure this is it, Mulder?"

Pulling myself up to a sitting a position, I followed
Scully's gaze. To the untrained eye this looked pretty much
like any other part of the woods. But I knew what to look
for and this was definitely the right place. 

"Oh yeah, I'm sure." 

 I climbed awkwardly to my feet and gathered up the
crutches.

"Look at the tree line."  I pointed to the tops of the
pine trees. "Look at the way the branches are sheared off
from the top and then continue in a diagonal path towards
the ground. They might have been able to disguise the point
of impact, but not the trajectory."

"So where is the point of impact?"

I made my way along the edge of what had once been a deep
crater filled with strewn wreckage and men in contamination
suits. "Down there."

"But, Mulder, how can you tell? It looks like the rest of
the forest?"

"Yeah, it does now. No one can argue that Henderson and
his team aren't good at what they do."

"So, where do we start and what exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary. Shrapnel, metal filings,
any evidence of fire, or extreme heat. I want to collect
soil samples, rocks, and cuttings from various types of
vegetation within a 50-yard radius of the site.  I'd bet my
left testicle we'll find evidence of radiation
contamination in that soil."

"Better be careful what you wish for, Mulder.  If there is
radiation out there, you might be paying with both your
testicles." 

"Ha. Ha."  I shrugged off my backpack and knelt on the
ground, pulling out two pairs of latex gloves and an
evidence kit. I divided the equipment between Scully and
myself.

 "If you find anything, call me first. I want to get
photos and measurements of where it was found."

"I have done this before, you know, Mulder." 

"I know you have, Scully. But we've got to take extra
care; evidence has a habit of disappearing from right under
my nose whenever I get close." I stood up, leaning on the
crutches.  "I think we'd be more efficient if we split up."

I studied the area within the shallow crater. "You start
on the eastern side, I'll start on the west and we'll move
in a clockwise direction."  I pulled the backpack over my
shoulders.

"Mulder."  Scully laid a hand on my arm.

"What?"

"Be careful."

I nodded, then headed to my allocated area towards the
bottom of the crater.

Before starting my examination of the crash site, I
grabbed a bottle of water from my bag and took a long swig,
wiping my mouth on my sleeve. I surveyed the area and chose
to start the search from the center and work my way towards
the outer edge.

After nearly thirty minutes of searching the area where
I figured the ship would have made the deepest impact, I
made my way up the side of the crater again, concentrating
on keeping my balance and collecting several vials of soil
and vegetation samples on the way.  Half way up something
caught my eye. I abandoned my crutches, tired of untangling
them from the matted undergrowth and crawled the short
distance to where I saw what looked like a piece of metal
glinting in the sun.

What I found was not metal but a chunk of sand melted to
the point where it had hardened like glass. Pay dirt!  I
pulled the camera from the inside pocket of my jacket and
stood, balancing on one leg and snapped several photos
before storing the clump of glass in an evidence bag. Okay,
it wasn't much, but it was a start.

I decided to head back to the top and skirt around the
outer perimeter, maybe get closer to where the ship had cut
a path through the taller trees. I couldn't see Scully from
where I was but I assumed she would be moving in my
direction. Hitching the pack over my left shoulder, I opted
to use just one crutch, leaving the other behind to mark my
spot and to free up my left hand.

I'd almost made it to the damaged tree line when the
forest around me went suddenly quiet. There were no sounds
of twittering birds, no insects buzzing, and no breeze
rustling through dry November leaves. I stood as still as
the forest, my ears tuned for the slightest hint of danger.

All of a sudden the quiet erupted into a high-pitched
squeal.  The air around me grew hot and clammy.  Static
electricity frizzed over my body, sparking the hair on my
head and hands till it stood on end. White light shimmered
through the forest.  I couldn't move, couldn't breathe and
images of Max Fenig, suspended above me in a dockside
warehouse, flashed through my mind.  The high-pitched
squeal grew heavier, deepening until it was a low drone,
its resonance vibrating in my head, pounding through my
skull until I wanted to scream. But my voice wouldn't work,
wouldn't come out. The light grew brighter, holding me in
its circle; paralyzed to the point where my lungs were
being crushed, my breathing just shallow gasps. Then the
light began to fade and a shadow crept over the forest. The
droning stopped and in its place was a hushed whisper that
seemed to float above me.

And then I could move. And breathe again.

Slowly, I turned my head towards the sky and . . . Oh god!
There it was! The truth I'd been so desperately searching
for was drifting above, in the form of a long cylindrical
shape, a carnival of colored lights blinking around its
perimeter.

The camera! Where the hell was it?

Scrambling for my backpack, I tipped the contents on the
ground and began searching for the Minnox. It took me a few
seconds to realize it was in the pocket of my jacket.
Kneeling on the ground, I aimed the lens towards the sky
and snapped pictures from every possible angle.

The drone changed pitch and became a long continuous
whine, climbing in intensity until I was forced to clamp my
hands over my ears. The pressure in my head climbed. Small,
white dots shot across my vision and I knew it would only
be a matter of seconds before I lost consciousness. My
knees buckled and I dropped onto my side, hands still
covering my ears while I waited for the darkness to take
me. But it didn't come. Instead, the forest went quiet and
a soft whoosh whistled overhead. When I looked up, the
space ship was gone.

I rolled onto my knees, staring at the empty space above
the trees, wondering for a brief second whether I'd
imagined the whole experience. The camera! I picked it up
off the ground, making sure it was still in one piece. It
was. And now I had the evidence I needed to prove my case
against the military. I had to find Scully.

I picked up my crutch and edged my way around the rim of
the crater hoping to see my partner. I'd almost made it
back to my original position when the first shot sent a
spray of dirt spattering at my feet. It took me a second
to register what was happening, but when the second bullet
ricocheted off a tree trunk only inches above my head,
realized someone was firing at me. I switched the crutch
to my left arm and swung the backpack all the way over my
shoulders, staggering towards the cover of a large Pine.

But I was too slow. 

The third shot hit the base of my crutch, spinning it from
under my arm and knocking me off balance. I hit the ground
rolling, a sharp burning sensation pulsing in my left hand.

My forward momentum carried me over the outside edge of
the crater gathering speed as the incline angled into a
sharp descent.  I tumbled head over heels, becoming
momentarily airborne before landing awkwardly on my right
side, my injured ankle turning under me with a hard wrench.
I screamed.  I couldn't help it, and then the scenery
rushed past behind a gray curtain of mist. When I finally
reached the bottom I curled into a ball, clutching my foot
with both hands, whimpering into the damp soil.

My ankle was on fire burning all the way to my knee. I
couldn't move, I could barely breathe.

"Fuck! Shit. Shitshitshit."

I had no idea how long I lay there. I had no idea where my
assailant was, and I had no idea how the hell I was ever
going to move again. I was paralyzed with pain. Pure agony
pulsed through my leg.

But staying still wasn't an option. Someone was trying to
kill me.

And I had to find my partner.

Panting hard, I dragged myself to a nearby tree and sat,
leaning against the trunk, trying to catch my breath and
clear my vision. What the hell was going on? We'd seen no
sign of military presence either on our way here or near
the site.  So who was shooting and where was he now?

A dull thud hitting a branch just to my right gave me one
answer. I threw myself to the left, scrambling on all fours
desperately seeking cover. I vaguely registered a sharp
pain in my left hand and glanced down. Shit! Blood
everywhere, but I couldn't do anything about it. Had to
keep moving.

I staggered to one foot, hopping and lurching deeper into
the woods. My ankle wouldn't take any weight and I had no
time to search for a stick to use as a crutch. Where the
hell was the shooter? Small, spindly branches whipped at my
face, clawed at my clothing.  Pain ratcheted up my right
leg with every clumsy move I made and now I could feel
blood, warm and sticky, dripping from my fingertips.

My left knee threatened to buckle under the strain, and it
was only luck and sheer determination that prevented me
from hitting the ground. Eventually pain and fatigue won
out. A gnarled root caught the toe of my left boot and I
pitched forward, face first onto a bed of pine needles.

Exhaustion pinned me to the ground, my breath coming in
great heaving gulps, while dirt coated my lips.  A primal
sense of self-preservation urged me to keep moving. I
rolled onto my left side and dragged myself under the
shelter of a fallen log and waited while my heart hammered
against my rib cage and my pulse pounded in my ears.

I burrowed deeper under the log, seeking as much
camouflage as possible, listening for any hint that the
gunman was still tracking me.

At first I heard nothing. Then the sound of snapping twigs
and panicked footfalls followed. A figure burst through a
heavily wooded area, weaving an ungainly path between trees
and logs, hurdling unseen obstacles in his path as he
headed directly for my location.  But there was nothing
predatory in the man's expression; his features were
twisted into a mask of pure terror.

He was practically on top of my hiding place when he
stopped. I could hear his breath wheezing in his chest; see
his head turning frantically from left to right seeking a
means of escape.

Without much thought, I reached out with my right hand and
wrapped my fingers around his shin, effectively pulling him
off balance. He dropped to his stomach and I pulled him
towards me, while he kicked and squirmed like a trussed
steer.

"Listen to me!  I'm not going to hurt you."  He stilled
for a second and terrified blue eyes locked onto my face.

"Who are you?"  He panted, eyes shifting from side to
side, and I knew he was still considering an alternate
route of escape.

"In here." I gestured to my hiding place. He stared at me,
weighing up his options.   When a shot whistled through the
woods the decision was made for him and he scampered
backwards to join me under the log. We both lay there;
fighting to get our breathing under control, listening for
the first warning that the shooter was getting closer.

It was only a minute or two later that we saw him. A man
dressed in military fatigues with a rifle clenched under
his right arm - the muzzle jutting out in front and a
silencer screwed to the end.  He made his way out of the
thicker part of the woods. Maybe Scully was okay, maybe she
was oblivious to the shooter. Maybe Blevins' would be
nominating me for Agent of the year. And pigs might fly as
well.

We flattened our bodies hard against the ground, both of
us holding our breath. The gunman paused, moving his head
in a slow arc, making a visionary sweep of the area.

My ears were ringing and my vision blurred; I had to
release my breath. In a slow controlled puff I blew out
quietly and sucked in another.

The shooter's head tipped to the side; eyes squinting as
he again examined our immediate vicinity. I'm not sure how
long we waited, it seemed like an eternity, but finally the
soldier turned to his right and headed away from us.

I let my head drop to the crook of my arm breathing
deeply. That was too damn close for comfort.

While we waited a little longer, I took the time to check
out my companion. He might have been in his early twenties;
it was hard to tell. A frizzy mop of blond curls was held
captive by a black baseball cap.  A polka-dot of freckles
sprinkled his fair complexion, and a thin covering of downy
fuzz lined a bony, angular jaw.  Just behind his right ear
was a puckered triangular scar.

Jeezus!

A closer look at the front of the baseball cap revealed a
five-lettered acronym that clenched my stomach muscles into
a tight ball. NICAP.

I clasped my right hand on his shoulder and spun him
around to face me. The poor guy nearly jumped out of his
skin.

"You're with NICAP?"
 
He didn't answer, instead shrugged out of my grip and
started to crawl forward. "Man, we gotta get outta here." 

"No, wait."   But he didn't.  He was out, bouncing on the
balls of his feet and looking desperately from left to
right. "Come on, man, we don't have much time. There are
two of them. We gotta hurry."

"What!?" I rolled onto my left side with all the finesse
of a hippopotamus in a mud bath. 

"Yeah, they've been tracking me for about 30 minutes. I
thought I was done for. Now, come on, or they'll be back."

Shit. That changed everything. Where was the other guy?
And god, where was Scully?

I dragged myself from under the log, using it as leverage
to get to my feet. The shift in position elicited a protest
of agony from my foot and the wound in my hand started to
drip again.

My NICAP friend was pacing like a caged animal, his arms
folded across his chest and hands tucked under his arms.

"I've gotta find my partner." I said, adjusting my stance
and leaning heavily against the log.

"Fuck! What was that?"  The young man turned, staring into
the woods. "Shit! Someone's coming. We've gotta go."

He took 5 or 6 paces before he realized I wasn't
following. He stopped and studied me, finally making the
connection between my crane-like stance and my lack of
movement.

"What's wrong with your leg?"

"Ankle."  I said, gritting my teeth. The pain was
escalating to almost unbearable the longer I remained
upright.

"Broken?"

That was the sixty four thousand dollar question and I was
beginning to suspect the answer was yes.

I shrugged.

"Shit."  He strode back to where I was standing and
without saying a word slung my right arm over his shoulder
and dragged me in the opposite direction of the crater.

 And Scully. 

"Come on."

"No. My partner . . ."

But he wasn't listening.  I was half-hopping half-
stumbling trying to stay with him.

We tripped and staggered through woods, giving no
consideration to stealth, concentrating only on putting as
much distance as possible between the gunmen and ourselves.

"What . . . What are you . . .  doing  . . .  out here?"
I asked in between gasping for air.

"I'm looking for someone."  He glanced quickly at me. "A
friend."

"A friend?  Max Fenig?"

He pulled up so fast I nearly shot past him.

His eyes narrowed to mere slits and he shrugged my arm off
his shoulder. "Who are you?"  He asked, suspicion coating
every word.

Fighting to maintain my balance, I reached inside my
jacket and pulled out my ID. "My name's Fox Mulder." I
flipped open my badge. "I'm a special a- "

"Fox Mulder?  You?"  He took a couple of steps backwards
then turned in a circle, arms spread wide as if appealing
to the wilderness for confirmation.  "Well fuck me!"  He
laughed out loud.

"I'd rather not, but you can tell me who you are."

"Fox Mulder!?  Seriously?"

I nodded slowly. "And you are . . ."

"Jake.  Jake Hennessy."  He held out his hand and I took
it, immediately regretting the action when he shook my hand
with an enthusiasm that nearly wrenched my shoulder from
its socket.

The rough treatment sent another gush of blood from the
wound in my left hand. I held it against my chest. The end
of another adrenaline rush had left me drained and giddy. I
had to sit before I fell.

I eased myself to the ground, stifling a groan on the way
down. My ankle felt like it was the size of a basketball,
the throb continually rolled up and down my leg. My injured
hand rested across my lap.

"Agent  Mulder? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

 "What are *you* doing out here?"

"The same thing as you. Looking for Max."  I carefully
stretched my right leg out in front of me.

"Do you know what happened to him?"

<They're coming for me. Don't let them take me. Please,
don't let them take me. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
MAAAAXX!!!>

"Mr. Mulder?"

I jerked back to the present. "Yeah, I know what happened.
But proving it is another matter."  I looked up into the
steel blue eyes of Max's friend. He was watching me
intently. Wanting answers. I offered him what I could.
"Max was abducted. By aliens."

"God damn. I knew it. I fucking knew it!"

I thought about the scar behind his ear. "How did you
know, Jake?"

A shadow came over his face like a curtain closing. He'd
obviously heard about me, but he didn't necessarily trust
me.

"Jake, you know who I am. Did Max tell you about me?"

"Everyone at NICAP knows about you. We follow your work.
When the rest of the world is laughing at us, we take
comfort in the fact that you're out there, validating our
beliefs. Fighting to prove that what has happened to us is
real." He dropped his head for a second, his hyperactivity
taking a back seat. "We're not crazy."

"I know that, Jake.  You felt it. Whatever it was that
drew Max to Townsend, it affected you too, didn't it?"

Jake started pacing again. "Max believed in UFOs. He was
desperate to see one. He had this . . .  this knack for
knowing where they would be." He shook his head. "I don't
mean the tracking equipment in his motor home, it was
something else. Like a sixth sense. He told me he needed to
be here, wanted me to come with him. But I couldn't."

He stopped his pacing and stared at the sky.

I urged him on. "Why not?"

When he turned to look at me, his expression was pained.
When he spoke his words were quiet. I almost didn't hear
them. "I was afraid."

He strode back to where I was sitting and crouched down
beside me.  "I was afraid they'd take me again."

"The aliens?"

A slow nod. "I started having nightmares a few years ago.
But . . .  they were so real. Then . . .  I started getting
flashbacks during the day. Memories of tests. Floating.
Fear."  He shuddered. "My parents took me to doctors,
psychiatrists but no one could explain it. Eventually I
underwent hypnosis. And then I remembered everything."  He
snorted a bitter laugh and climbed to his feet. "No one
believed me of course." The pacing was back. "I heard about
this group that believed in UFOs, close encounters, and
that's when I joined NICAP. I met Max, we became friends."
The pacing stopped suddenly. "But when he needed me, I
wasn't there."

I knew the feeling. Only I was there and I still couldn't
stop it.

"How did you know where to find the crash site?"

"I got the feeling. It . . .   It's a tingling in the back
of my head. I just know where to go. The closer I got to
the crash site, the stronger the sensation. NICAP had
already been monitoring this area. We knew it was a hot
spot. And when the media started reporting news of toxic
spills and evacuation, and when we didn't hear from Max. We
knew."  He fixed his gaze firmly on me.  "I have to find
him. They'll bring him back. They always return us."

"We'll find him." I said, not sure if I really believed
the words but damn sure I'd be making every possible effort
to make them true.

He nodded, letting his gaze wander to my bloodied hand.

"Man, you're bleeding!"

The boy was quick.

He immediately began digging through his pockets finally
producing a folded handkerchief and held it up with an air
of triumph. Dropping to his knees beside me, he flapped the
piece of cloth loose and then refolded it into an oblong
strip. "Here, give me your hand."

I held it out to him and he wrapped the handkerchief
around the jagged wound, pulling tight enough to illicit a
hiss of pain.

"Shit, sorry, man."

When he'd tied a knot he stood up again and inspected the
woods. "We can't stay here. The brass'll be back. We gotta
keep moving."

"No! I've got to find my partner. She was back at the
site. I don't know what's happened to her." 

It suddenly occurred to me that if we did get caught, then
I needed to protect the evidence. I slipped the back pack
from my shoulders and pulled out the camera.

"No way, uh-uh. We go back there, we're history. Those
guys are playing for real."

So tell me something I don't know.

After some awkward maneuvering I removed the tiny micro
film from the camera and slid it under the bandage on my
ankle.

Jake paced a short erratic two-step, clearly agitated at
being forced to stay in one place for longer than two
minutes.

"Look, Jake, I'm not going anywhere without my partner.
Now, either you help me to find her or I'll crawl back
there on my hands and knees if I have to."

I pulled the back pack on again.

Jake's anxiety climbed up a notch. Both hands were pressed
to his head, pulling the sides of his cap down so it was
stretched over his ears. He jiggled his knees like he
needed to use the bathroom and cursed softly under his
breath.

"Shit, man! I can't just leave you here!"

That was the answer I was hoping for.

I held out my good hand. "Help me up.  The quicker we get
back and find her, the quicker we can get out of here"

xxxxXXXxxxx

End of part 3, continued in part 4.

rbahnsen@optusnet.com.au