By Mortis
fanficcorner@yahoo.com
 

Rating:    NC-17 for language and sexual situations
Type:    Mytharc, MSR
Thanks:  To Kim and Nancy for being such great friends.
Disclaimer:  They don't belong to me - never have.  I'm just
borrowing them without profit.
 
 
 

En Pneumati Akatharto
By Mortis

+++++++++++++
 

“Come in, Agents.”   A.D. Skinner’s bark cut through the crack in his open door.

Scully glanced at Kimberly’s vacant desk, looking up at her boss inquisitively as she passed him to enter
his office.  Mulder followed close behind, shrugging into his suit jacket which he’d just tossed on the couch
in the outer office seconds before Skinner’s summons.

“She’s at lunch,” he said in answer to Scully’s unspoken question. He retreated behind his desk waving a
hand at the chairs before his desk. “Have a seat,” he said.  They took their places and he began. “I realize
you were on your way out, but this is a matter of some importance.  Mulder, you knew Senator Matheson,
didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Mulder answered, “He offered himself as a benefactor shortly after I graduated the Academy.
He was a trusted colleague until he became ­ compromised.”  Mulder nodded almost imperceptibly as
Skinner’s eyes bore into him.  Both men knowing the exact nature of that compromise.

Skinner continued without missing a beat.  “The late Senator had a daughter, Kaitlyn,” he said placing a
dossier on the desk before him.  Attached to the front, was an 8” x 12” photo of a comely dark-haired, dark-
eyed woman of about 30.  “The Senator’s brother, Marshall Matheson came to me this morning, requesting
our assistance in locating her. It seems that she’s disappeared.  For the past ten years, she has been working
on an eyes-only research project at Zyvex,” he said glancing at Scully, “she’s a specialist in micro-robotics
and a medical doctor. It’s been 24 hours, yet no ransom has been demanded, nothing to indicate an
abduction for profit.  Mr. Matheson is very concerned for his niece.  He believes that she’s in grave danger,
but he doesn’t believe she’s been kidnapped.  He indicated that she had begun exhibiting some ­ unusual
changes in personality.”

“’Unusual’, sir?”  Mulder asked.

Skinner lifted a silencing hand indicating that he was about to elucidate.  “Until recently, Dr. Matheson was
grounded and rational, not given to episodes of radical behavior. Then, about a month ago,” Skinner
cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “she became increasingly withdrawn and
frightened.  Frequently, in the early morning hours, she would be found wandering the grounds in her
nightgown, terrified and nearly incoherent, convinced that she was being pursued by some invisible and
malevolent force.  She became more and more nervous, agitated.  Then quite suddenly, according to Mr.
Matheson, his niece became another person altogether, someone dark and sinister.  He hinted at specific
incidents, but wouldn’t go into any detail.  I, uh,” he paused looking at Mulder, “he believes that she’s been
possessed.”

Mulder’s ears perked almost visibly forward.  “There have been documented cases of possession in recent
memory,” he began, “William Blatty’s The Exorcist, was based on a well-documented factual case from
1949.  She may have been sensing a paranormal presence attempting to gain entrance to her body.”

Scully eyes shot skyward as if looking for common sense somewhere on the ceiling.  “It’s more likely, sir,
that she’s mentally ill,” she suggested. “Her altered behavior could indicate the acute onset of
schizophrenia or even drug abuse.”

“That might be the case, Agent Scully,” Skinner growled, “but the Senator’s brother was most insistent that
her life was in danger, as was the Director, when he came to me with this case.”  He slid the manila folder
across the desk to her.  “If you’ll take a look at the photos, you’ll note that concerns for this woman’s safety
may not be completely unfounded.”

Scully glanced at the photos and passed them over to Mulder who had leaned in to get a better look.  The
photos showed an enormous room, furnished in great taste and expense, in complete disarray.  One photo
showed that a bureau had been overturned and all the contents of its drawers spilled and scattered across a
nearby California king-sized bed.  The others showed more of the same; expensive and beautiful items
knocked akimbo on a large antique dresser, jewelry scattered across the expensive Persian rugs from an
upset jewelry chest.  Clothes lay strewn about the room as if the closet had exploded.  Scully scanned  the
brief police report.  “Mr. Matheson was unable to determine if anything was missing.  Hmmm,” she mused.

“You have an insight, Agent Scully?” Skinner snapped, sounding piqued even to himself.  “I’m sorry, I’ve
had four calls in as many hours from concerned and connected friends of the late Senator Matheson and
one from an official in the DOD.  The latter call, I suspect, is at the root of the Director’s concern.” he said
softly.  “Given the sensitive nature of the research in which Kaitlyn Matheson was involved, it is
imperative that she be found as quickly as possible.  I appreciate your immediate attention to the
expeditious resolution of this matter.  That’ll be all.”  He looked at his desk and shuffled four files that he
made sure Kimberly always left on his desk for just this purpose, dismissing them.  Mulder and Scully rose
in unison in response to the well rehearsed cue.  He looked up and watched them make their way to the
outer door.  “I’ll expect a preliminary report by this evening.”

“Yes, sir.”  Scully closed the door behind her.  She looked up at Mulder, standing in the hallway like a
race-horse in the starting gate.  “You don’t really believe that Kaitlyn Matheson is possessed?  Mulder, this
is the twenty-first century.  No one in his rational mind believes in that mumbo-jumbo,” she chided.  “I
don’t even think that the Church performs exorcisms anymore.”

“Scully, you of all people should know that while it admits that a large number - an overwhelming number
- of these cases are indeed, hoaxes or mental illness, the Church still investigates the claims and has, in fact,
performed exorcisms in this century after having ruled out all other possibilities,” he lectured.

Scully thought back to Sister Spooky and all the lurid tales with which she’d regaled her and her young
classmates.  She stifled a shudder.  She had spent her entire life studying science; learning to rationalize the
religion in which she’d been raised.  She had chosen to believe it as symbolism and had lost her faith as a
result.  She suddenly realized it had been months since she’d been to Confession.

Mulder interrupted her guilty thought, gently taking her elbow and guiding her down the hallway to the
elevator.  “I suppose that we’d better pay a visit to Mr. Matheson,” he said smiling, radiating that boyish
charm that both annoyed the hell out of her and endeared him to her all the same.
 
 

++++++++++++++++
 

Scully looked out the window of their requisitioned sedan as Mulder drove on auto-pilot.  She watched the
homes become larger and more expensive with each passing block.  Ahead and to the right, she saw Sen.
Matheson’s house rise out of the landscape.  Mulder slowed and put on his turn signal even though they
were completely alone on the street.  He turned into a short section of drive and came to a halt before a set
of wrought iron gates.  He rolled down the window and had to climb half out of it in order to reach the call
button on the intercom.  Scully smiled quietly at the site of Mulder, hanging out the window.  Her slightly
raised eyebrow was the only outward indication of the appraisal she was giving his backside as he
unconsciously presented it to her in his awkward pose.

“Yes?”  A disembodied voice asked.

“Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI.  We’re here to speak with Mr. Matheson.”  Mulder slid back into
his seat.  The gate slowly swung open in silent answer to his announcement.  “Thanks,” he said quietly to
the box.  He put the car in gear and they covered the remaining quarter-mile of the driveway to the house.
Mulder parked, and they proceeded to the gaping maw of the magnificent edifice.

Mulder sashayed up to the enormous double-hung doors as if he owned the place.  She silently envied the
ease with which he accepted the obvious excess of wealth standing before them.  She knew that he had
grown up in the tasteful affluence of Martha’s Vineyard, but was certain that he would be as intimidated by
this overt display of privileged circumstances as she was.  Scully had grown up on military bases.  As a
captain’s daughter, she had enjoyed a certain amount of affluence herself, but this much luxury made her
uncomfortable.  Mulder rang the bell next to the doors as she caught up to him.

A few moments later, the doors swung open revealing a woman in her mid 50’s wearing the starched gray
uniform of the household staff.  She smiled warmly at them and showed them into a magnificently
appointed library.  “I’m Magdalena,” she said.  The skin around her eyes crinkled into little obsidian-
centered suns.  Scully liked her immediately.  “Mr. Matheson should be with you shortly.  Can I bring you
anything, coffee, tea?”  They both demurred and after obtaining their promise to “just shout” if they
changed their minds, she closed the French doors behind her and left.

“A little light reading?” Mulder joked running his finger along several bindings and pulling out a
monstrous, leather-bound tome that looked as if it hadn’t been dusted since it had been published a couple
hundred years ago.  Scully waved her hand in a feeble attempt to shoo the dust from the air in front of her
and cracked a rare grin.

“Have you ever seen so many books?” she wondered aloud.   She walked the circuit of shelves slowly,
taking in the richness of the décor.  Everything was done in burgundy and gold, in leather and wood.  The
sofa and several matching wing-chairs looked like priceless antiques sitting on the equally old and
expensive Persian rug done up in the same color scheme.  Her eyes finally came to rest on a statuette in
bronze standing above on a fireplace that stood as tall as she did.  It was set on a heavy marble base and
depicted a Native American mounted on a horse.  Both the man and the animal had their heads bowed as if
in defeat or exhaustion.  The sculpture stirred a poignant emotion in her and she idly wondered to herself if
it was an original.  “I never realized that being a public servant paid so well,” she said, her voice dripping
with sarcasm.

“It doesn’t,” Mulder grinned, “at least not for an honest one.  Senator Matheson came from an oil-
producing state.  His great-grandfather gobbled up several large tracts of land and his grandfather knew
where to drill.”  Scully made her way to the bookcase where Mulder was standing.  Most of the titles were
in foreign languages, some were even in different alphabets.  There were a few ancient looking medical
texts and anatomy atlases.  There were also several very old texts on the occult.  Scully pulled out one
particular volume, “Malleus Maleficarum,” she read.  “Here you go Mulder, all the evidence you’ll need to
get an arrest warrant for the Devil.”  She let out a mirthful snort, her breath puffing out across the top of the
book creating a mini dust storm.  Mulder’s nose twitched and he sneezed.  Scully couldn’t hold back a
giggle.

“Those are priceless,” Marshall Matheson’s soft low voice cut through the room, cutting Scully’s giggle off
in mid breath.  He looked sad and tired.  He stepped into the room leaving the glass and wood doors
standing open to the foyer.  “Agent Mulder, I presume?  Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said with a
gentle smile.  He stuck out a hand and took Mulder’s in a firm, dry grip. Scully quickly replaced the book
in its spot on the shelf.  “And Agent Scully,” he said, his hand releasing Mulder’s and reaching for hers.
She shook his hand, instantly sober and a little embarrassed.  Without any further pleasantries, they got
right down to business.

“We need to talk to you about Kaitlyn, Mr. Matheson.”

“Please,” he gestured, “won’t you sit down?”
 

***************
 

The three of them settled into a grouping of wing chairs.  Mulder and Scully took the two chairs flanking
Mr. Matheson.  He picked up a phone sitting on a small table to the left of his chair, spoke briefly in hushed
tones and a few minutes later, Magdalena entered the room with a large pot of coffee on a silver tray.  She
poured three cups and silently left the room.  Scully reached forward and splashed a bit of cream in her cup
and sat back, attentive, while Mulder began to question Marshall Matheson about his niece.

“Mr. Matheson,” Mulder began gently, “on what do you base your suspicion that Kaitlyn is possessed?”

“Mr. Mulder, I know it sounds crazy,” he shook his head, “hell, we’re not even Catholic, but I swear that
Kaitlyn isn’t Kaitlyn any more.”  He looked at Mulder for signs of scoffing, but he projected only attentive
curiosity.  Assured by his reaction, or rather lack of one, Matheson continued.  “I have been close to
Kaitlyn since she was  a baby.  My brother didn’t always have the time to devote to her, and after her
mother died, I stepped in to help.  I was recently divorced,” he looked down at his hands, “and I didn’t have
any children of my own.  Being a consultant, I was able to do most of my work from here and we became
as close as any father and daughter.”  Scully saw the tears standing in his eyes and felt her heart breaking
for the man.  “I was the father to her that Richard didn’t have time to be.  I was the one who went to school
functions; I was the one that cheered her on at the science fairs; I was the one she came to when she was
troubled.”  He choked, “Excuse me,” he said turning away and reaching for his handkerchief.

“I know this is difficult for you, sir,” Scully said reaching out to gently lay a comforting hand on his arm.
“We’ll do everything possible to find her.”

Marshall Matheson, sniffed.  He nodded his head and continued, “After Kaitlyn finished her doctorate, we
saw less of each other.  She was very busy with her new job and since it was classified, she couldn’t discuss
it with me and I never asked.  But we always managed to have lunch together at least twice a week and we
regularly played tennis every Saturday afternoon.  We stayed close.  About a month ago, Kaitlyn confided
to me that she was frightened.  When I asked her what had frightened her, she said she couldn’t tell me.  I
assumed that it had to do with her work.  But she became more and more paranoid, jumpy.  Last week, I
walked up on her having an argument with the air in the hallway.  I walked up to her and lay my hand on
her shoulder, I tell you, she nearly jumped out of her skin.  It was then that I began to have serious concerns
for her mental health.”  He looked Scully in the eye.  “There is no history of mental illness in our family,
Agent Scully.  Not even eccentrics,” he smiled fleetingly.  “But, Kaitlyn is adopted,” he admitted, the regret
evident in his voice.  He was loathe to continue, but knew that he needed to be completely open.  He took a
deep breath and went on.  “She stood there in tears, tearing at her hair, saying over and over, ‘No!!  Go
back to hell!’  I didn’t know what to do, I called our family physician who recommended a psychiatrist
with whom he’d worked before.  She was supposed to see Kaitlyn next week.  I didn’t think that Kaitlyn
would harm herself and I certainly didn’t think she was a danger to anyone else… perhaps I should have
taken her to the hospital,” his voice trailed off.  He was lost in the pain and guilt that only a parent can
experience.

“Do you now contend that Kaitlyn is mentally ill, sir?” Mulder asked.

“No ­ I don’t know anymore,” he said, confused.  “Agent Mulder, there’s more.  After I found her having
that ‘argument’, Magdalena and I got her calmed down and convinced her to rest.  I had seen her to her
room and asked her to join me for a quiet dinner.  She seemed rational again, if shaken.  She said she’d
have a nap and would see me later.  I don’t know what happened,” he said looking anxiously from Mulder
to Scully and back.  “She may be mad,” he admitted, his voice filled with tired defeat, “but the person that
joined me for dinner that night was not Kaitlyn.”

++++++++++++++++

Marshall Matheson proceeded to detail the appalling transformation of the woman he had, for all practical
purposes, raised from infancy.  “She didn’t even look like herself,” he continued.  “She was wearing this
slinky dress that looked like it had been poured on.”  His discomfort at the memory was evident.  He
shifted in his seat and looked away.  “I remember when she acquired this particular dress.  It was last year,
she had sent her assistant out to select an evening dress for a Hollywood fund-raiser.  She had refused to
wear it.  She called it obscene.” He looked at his hands as if they were something he’d never seen before
and didn’t know what to do with them.  “She made crude sexual suggestions to me,” he said looking for the
shock in their eyes. “She would never have done that.  I tell you, she was some other being, but that was
not my Kaitlyn.”  He put his face into his hands and collected himself enough to continue though his
cheeks burned.  “That was only the beginning.  She became exceedingly aggressive.  As the week
progressed, her advances became more and more overt ­ even physical.  When I refused her, she turned on
me like a wild animal.  She screamed and flew at me.  I thought that she would scratch my eyes out.  I had
Magdalena call the doctor.  It took all three of us, but we were finally able to restrain and sedate her.  That
was the night before last.  Dr. Kim concurred that she needn’t be hospitalized yet, given her position, we
thought the publicity…” he trailed off, silently thrashing himself for his choice.  “When we went in to
check on her yesterday morning, she was gone and her room had been ransacked.   Please,” he implored
with pitiful eyes, “find her.  The Director thought I was mad.  He agreed to investigate this only because of
Richard, as a kidnapping.  He did, however, tell me that you have a certain ­ expertise ­ in these matters,
Agent Mulder.”

“I don’t mean to sound skeptical, sir,” Mulder began surprising Scully, “but this behavior in and of itself
doesn’t support your claim of possession.” He watched Matheson closely for his reaction.  But the older
man merely looked at him without apology.  Matheson was certain that everyone involved thought he’d
completely lost his mind and didn’t care who thought so if it would only help his niece.

“That isn’t the extent of it, Agent Mulder,” he said.  “Kaitlyn is a tiny thing.  She’s not even a full five and
half feet and weighs less than 130 lbs., but she threw the three of us around that room as if she were a titan.
And she also began to,” here he paused again, looking for the words, “she claimed she was able to read
people’s thoughts.  I thought I’d test that assertion and asked her ­ you know, in my head without words,
what was wrong with her.  She laughed, looked me in the eye, and said, ‘En pneumati akatharto.’  Kaitlyn
speaks a dozen languages, agents, but I don’t.  Does this mean anything to you?”

Scully caught Mulder’s eyes at this statement.  She said nothing, but Mulder knew that she understood what
Dr. Matheson had said.  He also knew that she didn’t want to divulge that information in front of her
distraught uncle.  He acknowledged her unspoken communication in the same fashion.

Mulder stood, drawing the interview to a close. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Matheson.  I promise
that we will do everything in our power to find her,” he  said clamping his hand gently, but firmly, on
Matheson’s bicep in a masculine gesture of sympathy and reassurance. “If we may, we’d like to examine
her room.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, relieved that the agents hadn’t suggested that he seek out mental health
counseling himself.  “Right this way.”  He pointed and led them up a large curving staircase that spanned at
least three storeys.  At the second floor landing, Matheson turned to the left and led them down a wide
hallway to another set of double-hung doors.  He opened them and moved aside to let the two agents enter.
“You’ll forgive me, if I don’t join you,” he said.  The pain of seeing the room evident in his gaze.  “I’ll be
in the library when you’re finished, if you have any more questions for me.”  With that, he left the two of
them standing at the open door, free to look around unhindered.

The room had been straightened and cleaned.  It looked ready for Dr. Matheson to occupy, no hint of the
complete destruction captured in the photos.  They entered the room and began to poke about into Kaitlyn
Matheson’s private life.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
 

They split up at the door.  Mulder headed for the closet, while Scully went straight for the desk tucked into
an alcove featuring a large bay window.  The desk was of simple design in heavy wood.  It sat facing the
rest of the room, putting its user’s back to the window.  The window was hung with several lace panels
flanked on the sides by heavy drapes that could be drawn to block out all the light from the enormous
window.  The window’s seat was topped by a thick upholstered pad that was piled with several plump
pillows.  The latest Patricia Cornwell novel lay on the seat with a tasseled book-mark denoting its reader’s
progress.

Built into the walls flanking the desk were two matching five-drawer file cabinets, the contents of which
Scully scrutinized briefly.  They seemed to be filled with two parallel rows of CD’s containing multiple
computer files.  The bottom two drawers were locked.  She took a seat at the desk.  A very nice ThinkPad
sat closed on the desk.  Scully pulled it to her and flipped open the lid.  She sat through a fairly prolonged
boot-up sequence until the system asked for Dr. Matheson’s password.  Scully wasn’t surprised.  She had
taken similar precautions with her own.  She had even ceased keeping written journals in favor of
electronic ones after their sanctity had been violated and they had been read against her wishes.  She shut
down and closed the computer and made do with probing through the desk drawers.  The center drawer was
locked as well.  Scully ran her hand on the underside of the drawer and felt something taped there.  She
pulled loose the tape and pulled out an ornate key.  She slipped into the lock on the center desk drawer and
was rewarded with a quiet click.  In the drawer were several files containing what seemed to be birth
records.  Had Kaitlyn Matheson been trying to find her birthparents?  She tucked the files aside on the desk
for closer examination later.

Mulder had finished his survey of the rest of the room.  He walked over to the desk and parked himself on
it directly across from Scully.  “Anything useful?” he inquired with a glance at the files.

“I’m not sure,” she began, “I’ll give them a closer look this evening.  I’d like to talk to Dr. Kim, maybe he
has some insight into her behavior.”

Mulder glanced at his watch; 2:30.  “If you’re all done here, we can swing by his office on the way back to
the office.  Maybe we’ll have more to tell Skinner after that.”

Scully nodded her ascent.  She tucked the files into her briefcase.

Mulder remembered her look at Dr. Matheson’s explanation for the change that had come over her,
“Scully?  What is ‘en pneumati akatharto’?”

“It’s ancient Greek,” she began reluctantly, hesitant to feed the possession theory, but unwilling to lie.  “It’s
from the Gospel of St. Mark.  It means, ‘with an unclean spirit’.  St. Mark uses that phrase when he
describes the exorcism of a man in the synagogue at Capharnaum.  But that doesn’t prove a thing, Mulder,”
she said waiting for him to argue the opposite point.

“She has exhibited several of the behaviors associated with possession; change in personality, moral
depravity, unusual strength, possibly even telepathic abilities.”  Mulder’s brows came together, “But I’m
not sure I believe that she’s possessed.”

Scully pushed the chair back from the desk.  Her foot slipped on something wet on the floor.  She bent
down to see what it was and let out a small gasp.  “Mulder!” she whispered, “look at this!”

Mulder moved to her side and bent down to examine what had shaken his partner.  There on the parquets
rested blackish oily residue.  “At least not in the conventional sense of possession,” he amended.  They
looked at each other with the shared understanding that this case had just become a lot more complicated ­
and dangerous.

Scully took out latex gloves and a small sterile sample container from her briefcase. She scraped up a small
amount of the residue, sealing it inside for later analysis. She didn’t have much doubt about what the
substance was, but it would be good evidence ­ provided they could hold on to it this time.

Once that was done, they retraced their steps to the library where Matheson waited for them. He allowed
them to take whatever they wanted if it would help them find Kaitlyn and told Scully he would phone Dr.
Kim to encourage his cooperation. They left with Dr. Matheson’s files, her laptop and troubled minds.

They headed out of Arlington towards the 395 and back to D.C. Mulder found Dr. Kim’s office building
with no trouble. The receptionist didn’t seem concerned that they didn’t have an appointment and soon they
were ensconced in a small private waiting area. They sat side by side on the leather couch to wait for him.

Scully picked up the latest “Lancet” and began to scan the pages without much real interest. Mulder
reached for a copy of “People”. He wasn’t any more interested than Scully, but it gave him something to do
with his hands. Tasteful classical music quietly wafted through the room from speakers over-head. They
didn’t have long to wait. Dr. Kim emerged through a door to their left and invited them into his office.

Dr. Kim was a handsome Oriental man somewhere between middle-aged and old. He extended his hand.
“Dr. Scully, I’m please to make your acquaintance. And Agent Mulder,” he said shaking hands with him as
well. “Marshall called me and asked me to help you in any way I could.” His dark brows knitted, “I am
happy to cooperate in your investigation, although, I’m not sure what help I could be.” He shrugged and
shook his head slowly.

“How long has Dr. Matheson been a patient of yours?” Mulder began, taking one of the seats before the
doctor’s enormous desk. Scully followed suit, while Dr. Kim waited for her to sit.

He took his seat behind the desk. “Since she was a baby,” he smiled. “I’ve been the Matheson family
doctor for more years than I can remember.”

“What can you tell us about the adoption?” Scully inquired.

“I’m afraid not much,” he began, “Richard and Christine tried for years, unsuccessfully, to conceive. I
believe that Richard arranged it through connections that he had in the government, but I was not involved
in that.” His face clouded with a frown momentarily, but it cleared as quickly as it had come, leaving
Scully to wonder what memories were associated with it.

“Do you know, sir, if she had begun any sort of search for her birth parents?” Scully asked.

“She had spoken of a desire to know more about her birth parents, but I am unaware if she ever took
measures to find them,” Dr. Kim shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair.

She quickly continued, “Had Kaitlyn exhibited any unusual behavior before?”

“Well,” he hedged, “that would fall under the auspices of doctor/patient confidentiality, but Marshall asked
me to be as candid as I could with you. No, Kaitlyn never showed any unusual behavior until recently.” He
hesitated a moment, weighing his options. “Where I come from, things like possession are not tossed away
lightly; even by medical professionals. I have been in this county for many years, but I guess somewhere in
the back of my mind, I’ve never let go of the superstitions of my homeland. It sounds quite mad, but I
believe that she may actually be possessed.” He looked at them with his head down, waiting for the
laughter that would surely follow.

Instead, Mulder piped up with a question, “On what do you base that belief, sir?”

Dr. Kim looked up. He examined the man’s face for signs of sarcasm, but found none. He decided that they
might be open to non-conventional ways of thinking after all and relaxed visibly. “Apart from her obvious
behavior changes, Agent Mulder, I saw something that alarmed me. Something I’ve never seen before.
After I had sedated Kaitlyn that night, I examined her eyes.” He paused leaned in confidentially and spoke
in little more than a whisper, “I saw the evil literally swirling black within her eyes. It looked like the very
clouds of hell were contained within the orbs themselves.”

Scully sat back in her chair. Mulder wore a grim look. He stood and Scully joined him. “Thank you for
seeing us on such short notice, Doctor,” he began, “We may have more questions later, if that’s okay?”

Dr. Kim rose and again offered his hand. “I’m glad to see you both, anytime,” he said with a sincere smile.
He led the way to the outer door of his office, depositing them in the hallway by which they’d entered.
They exchanged final pleasantries, then headed back toward the elevator.

“Mulder,” Scully said quietly, “I think I should get this sample to the lab before we see Skinner.”

He silently nodded his agreement as they got in the car and made their way through heavy traffic to the J.
Edgar Hoover Building.

Mulder pulled the car into the garage. The tires chirped on the pavement as he hit the edge of the down
ramp. He slowed, slightly, and pulled into an unused space as far from the doors as he could manage. He
reached over and flipped on the radio, twisting the knob until it reached a volume sufficient to attract
Scully’s gaze. Her brows knitted, a question in her eyes. Mulder silenced her with a finger to his lips. He
reached out his hand grasping the back of her neck gently and pulled her face close to his. The stubble of
his developing five o’clock shadow prickled her cheek as he spoke softly into her ear.

“How long will it take you to get a positive ID on that residue,” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.

She gently turned her face to his ear. “Not long,” she said, her anger and resentment against all that the
substance represented coursing beneath the ice in her voice. “I can be certain to ten decimal places within
twenty minutes.”

“Good. I’m going to start our report to Skinner. You get the stuff under the microscope and meet me in our
office. I’m going to call some friends,” he said, leaning back as the song ended. “So, what are you doing for
dinner?” he asked with a smile and a normal tone of voice. He killed the engine and removed the keys.

“Work,” she replied while unfastening her seatbelt and getting out of the car as well. “You?”

“Same.” They made their way inside. Mulder headed for the office while Scully caught the elevator. She
clutched the handle of her briefcase, knuckles white. The elevator beeped and several people stood waiting
as the door opened onto the fourth floor. Many of them wore lab coats. She stepped out of the car as they
filed in to fill it. Her eyes swung left, then right as she assessed the few remaining stragglers in the corridor.
She made for a door toward the end of the hallway and let herself in.

She reached into her briefcase and retrieved the sample. Keeping it securely in her hand, she shrugged out
of her jacket and tossed it on a nearby stool. She quickly assembled a pair of slides and went to work,
smearing each of them in turn with the sample residue. She removed her glasses and leaned in to peer into
the microscope’s eyepieces. She began to note her findings, her expression becoming grimmer with each
word and figure she wrote.

Twenty minutes later, she walked into the basement office. “Mulder,” she began. He silenced her with the
familiar finger to the lips, then tugged at his earlobe to indicate that they were not private. She nodded
imperceptibly and continued without a lag. “How about some dinner? I’m famished,” she said with a
pointed glance toward her briefcase.

“How does Chinese sound?” he asked as they exited the office.

They dropped the pretense of the conversation as soon as they entered the elevator, but didn’t speak about
the case. They dropped Mulder’s preliminary report at Skinner’s office and headed out of the building.
They hit the door and Mulder gently tugged Scully’s sleeve toward his vehicle. She followed and they
headed out into the evening throng of traffic.

“What did you find?” he asked. He felt comfortable discussing the case in his own car, but turned the radio
on anyway to confuse their conversation for anyone who might be listening.

“The substance is oil, plain oil, just like the last time, but that’s not all.” She waited for him to look at her
before she continued. “I found several of those carbon machines, nanites, mixed in with the sample. They
are just like what I found in Skinner’s blood when he was attacked.” She paused letting the implication sink
in.

“Dr. Matheson is a specialist in nano-technology, Mulder. She might be very useful to someone who had an
interest in the black oil. We have to consider the possibility that she’s been working with them all along
and has disappeared of her own accord,” she postulated. “Think about it. Her bizarre behavior, the
ransacking of her room ­ it’s the perfect set-up for her to stage her own disappearance.”

Mulder thought a moment. “I concede that she must have created the nano-technology that was used
against Skinner. But her own father was killed to prevent that technology from being exported, from
leaving the country. What possible motive would she have to kill her own father?”

“You said it yourself, Mulder; to keep her research here, secret ­ under the control of those who would use
it as a weapon to control whoever they wanted.”

“I don’t know, Scully, I think we need to find out more about Dr. Matheson before we conclude that she
could be capable of killing her own father. She had nothing to gain from his death. She may have been
deceived by the same people who took her when she outlived her usefulness.”

“Well, I think we should get a less rose-colored assessment of Dr. Matheson. We should talk to some of her
colleagues at Zyvex and find out a little more about the ‘sainted’ Dr. Kaitlyn Matheson,” she said dropping
her argument for the time being.
 

***************
 

Mulder dropped Scully at her apartment and headed back to his place.  He paused at the stop sign at the end
of the block and pulled out his cell phone.  He hit the speed dial and a few seconds later was answered by
Frohike’s gravelly voice.  “Yeah?” he said with the usual suspicion embedded in the greeting.

“Frohike turn off the tape, it’s me,” came Mulder’s standard reply.

Frohike waited a second and said, “Okay, shoot.”

“I said, ‘Turn off the tape,’” Mulder repeated.

He heard the click of the machine being turned off and then continued.  “I need you guys to do something
for me.”

“What?  You need a date for the policemen’s ball?” Frohike joked.

“I need you to sweep my apartment and Scully’s for surveillance devices,” he said without preamble.  “I’m
pretty sure that they’ve had our office bugged for a while, but I need to be certain both our places are
secure.  When can you get to it?”

“Right now,” Frohike replied, suddenly serious and sober.  “We’ll meet you at your place.  Where are you
now?”

Mulder gave the intersection and told him that he was in transit.  Frohike assured him that they would be
waiting for him as soon as he arrived home.  He hung up the phone and started to gather equipment.

Scully entered her apartment and dropped her keys on the table by the answering machine without turning
on any lights.  She dead-bolted and chained the door behind her and moved to close the drapes she’d left
open that morning.  She peered out the window through them and noticed a dark blue Ford sedan parked
midway down the street.  Its windows were darkly tinted, but she saw a trail of smoke wafting out a crack
in the one on the driver’s side.  She blew out the breath she only just realized she was holding and shifted
her mental focus to the now familiar game of cat and mouse.  Or was that Moose and Squirrel, she thought
to herself with a sardonic snort.

She moved slowly away from the window.  She moved through the entire apartment, checking all the
windows and drawing all the shades.  She finally turned on the light in her bedroom and set her briefcase
next to the bed.  Her cell phone chirped in the pocket of her blazer and she jumped.  “Scully,” she
answered.

“Scully, it’s me.”  Mulder’s voice cut through the silence of her apartment.  “We need to talk, but not on
this line.”

“Mulder,” Scully cut in, “ I’m being watched.”

“I’ve got to clean up my apartment, then I’m on my way,” he said not wanting to broadcast what kind of
cleaning he intended.

Scully nodded to the phone.  “I’ll see you then.”

Scully flipped the phone onto the bed and kicked off her heels.  She changed into her favorite soft sweats
and t-shirt.  She padded into the kitchen and made herself a pot of coffee, she knew it was going to be a
long night.  She headed back into the bedroom and retrieved Dr. Matheson’s files.  She left the laptop
where it rested next to her own.  She moved into the dining room and dropped them on the table in passing
to get herself a cup of the steaming brew.  Coffee in hand, she settled herself at the table with one leg
tucked up under her.  She opened the files and began to scrutinize them.

The first three yielded nothing of any real interest, but the fourth one looked promising.  It contained
several papers that appeared to be copies of birth and adoption records, but much of the information had
been redacted, the details effectively edited out leaving nothing of any real information.  Scully noticed the
witnessing signatures on the birth certificate and the adoption papers and her heart began to pound.  CGB
Spender’s name leapt out at her.  She began to check all the papers for the same signature and found it on
several of the also heavily redacted papers in the other files as well.  Scully whistled quietly.  She dove into
the puzzle, trying to make the connection between the documents and the signature and Dr. Matheson.

About two hours later, a knock at the door startled her out of her conundrum.  She slipped out of the chair,
wiggling her toes which had fallen asleep.  She looked through the peephole and saw Mulder.  She undid
the chain and deadbolt and opened the door.  Mulder stepped in, gently placing his hand on the outer aspect
of the handle, blocking her from closing it.  Frohike, Langly and Byers filed in behind him wearing their
black “funky poaching” outfits and with several high-tech looking devices in tow.  Mulder turned on the
TV while they began to scan the apartment whispering an explanation quietly in her ear.

Scully nodded her understanding.  She led him silently to the table where she pointed at the files and asked,
“You want some coffee?”

“Sure,” he replied absently as he examined the pages she had indicated.  She came back into the room
carrying two steaming cups and leaned in to look over his shoulder.  He noted the signatures, but said
nothing.

Frohike came into the room, his face looking like a thunderstorm breaking over the horizon.  With a series
of silent gestures he led them to an electronic listening device concealed in one of the power outlets in
Scully’s living room.  He then led the way to the bedroom where he pointed out another hidden behind the
mirror over her dresser.  Scully’s face was grim and her nostrils flared slightly with anger at the invasion of
her privacy.

*********
 

Scully retrieved Dr. Matheson’s laptop from her briefcase and handed it to Langly.  He nodded silently,
understanding what she wanted and tucked it gingerly into the bag of equipment that hung heavily from his
shoulder.

What followed was a pantomime conversation carried out over Mulder’s spoken one.  “Hey, Scully,” he
said while herding the Lone Gunmen out the door and grabbing his own jacket, “I’m starved, let’s go grab a
bite.”

Scully nodded, moving to the bathroom to change into jeans and a sweater, while Mulder managed to keep
talking about mundane things.  Soon they were out of her apartment and on the road, Mulder at the wheel,
with the dark sedan Scully had spotted from her window two car lengths behind.

Mulder pulled into a spot right in front of a place called “The Cave” and ushered Scully inside.  They
walked in and grabbed a booth towards the back with a good view of the door.  They stood out like Oral
Roberts at a Marilyn Manson concert.  Everyone was dressed in gothic black and sported more piercings
than a well-worn voodoo doll.  Mulder smiled with deep satisfaction as two men in dark suits came in just
minutes behind them.  He gave them a one-finger salute as they paused and looked his way.  They turned
and left, grimacing as they realized they had just given themselves away.  “Must be the second string,”
Mulder mused as they left.

A very pale young woman with short-cropped, dyed black hair sauntered up to their table.  She carried a
large round tray which she rested on her hip.  “Can I get you something?” she asked, fully expecting them
to ask for directions.

“You have food?” Mulder inquired evenly.  Scully sat silently wondering how she managed to speak
around the metal bars that protruded from both cheeks and her bottom lip.  Not to mention the one through
her tongue.

She was relieved when she heard the young woman answer in the negative.  She stood as Mulder did and
he took her elbow, gently maneuvering her out a door to the rear of the place.  They emerged in the alley
and walked a short distance to the street.  They turned right and came to a deli located right on the corner.
They entered and Mulder pulled out his wallet.  “My treat,” he smiled.  “Pastrami and Provolone on Rye
with that coarse spicy mustard,” he said to the old man behind the counter  He nodded.  They both looked
to Scully who ordered a large chef salad.  “And two iced-teas,” Mulder said concluding their order.  The
old man made Mulder’s sandwich and retrieved a fresh-looking salad from a refrigerated case behind the
counter, placing the food before the two and taking Mulder’s money.  They picked up their food and took a
seat toward the back of the small deli that gave them a good view of the goings-on outside.

“They know we’re on to them,” Mulder began around a mouthful of sandwich.  “I think we should leave
the bugs in place.”

Scully’s eyebrows went up in a look of surprise, but she said nothing as Mulder continued.

“They know we’re aware of the tail, but they may think that we have missed the listening devices and will
back off to lull us into a sense of security.  We can use this to our advantage,” he said with a crooked grin.
“We can continue to feed them the information that *we* want them to have.”

Scully smiled, liking the idea of being the cat this time, rather than the relentlessly pursued mouse.  “I think
that we should see Dr. Kim again,” she said, “I believe that he knows more than he told us about that
adoption.  Given Cancer Man’s involvement, it’s obviously not the simple adoption that we had assumed.  I
think we should see Marshall Matheson again, as well.”

“Okay,” Mulder agreed, “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

They finished their food and made their way back to Mulder’s car.  There was no sign of their tail as they
headed back to Scully’s apartment.

Once there, he saw her to her door.  “Well, Scully, I’ll see you in the morning.  I think you’re right about
going to Zyvex, we might get some answers about Dr. Matheson from her colleagues.”

“’Night, Mulder,” she said grinning.  He winked at her as she closed the door and left once he’d heard the
deadbolt and chain click into place.
 

************
 

JUST OUTSIDE
BLACK CROW, ND
 

A lovely young woman with long brown hair climbed down from the cab of the semi-truck.  She slung a
large duffel over her shoulder then stepped back from the door.  “Thanks,” she smiled.  The driver waved
and pushed the monstrous engine into gear, pulling away as she closed the door.  Her expression hardened
immediately as she turned on her heel and began walking toward a series of squat-looking buildings a short
distance away.  The being inside her was becoming weaker by the minute and she knew she had little time
to complete her mission.

The buildings were surrounded by a ten foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire.  She walked up to the
gate where a soldier stood guard.  He looked at her and his hand went to his weapon.  “This is a secured
area, Miss, I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes swam and her body began to glow.  The entity inside her would not be balked.  A blinding
flash of light emanated from her and the guard went down, burns all over his body.  She screamed out from
deep within her mind at the violence she had hoped to avoid.  This soldier was only doing his job!  Even
though his job was to keep anyone from gaining access to the secret inside, at any cost, she felt remorse for
his death.

She continued past him, driven by an almost instinctual urge and headed for one of the small buildings.
She touched the handle of the locked door and it began to glow, melting away at her touch, giving her
access.  She entered and looked around.

She stepped into the elevator and began the journey into the bowels of the earth where her objective was
stored, eighty storeys down.  She prayed silently that their plan would work.  She didn’t want her life to be
forfeit for nothing.  This gambit must work or the human race would be doomed to servitude and death as
hosts to these still unknown invaders.

She encountered no other guards as she made her way through the maze of hallways, like a salmon
swimming upstream to its spawning place, guided by the thing within her.  She came at last to a door
marked with the number 1013 and an international sign for radiation hazard.  Once again, the locked door
posed no obstacle and she entered the dark room, fully prepared for her life to end within moments of
completing her task.  She only wished she could live long enough to see her Alexei again.
 

**************
 

Scully spent a sleepless night tossing in her bed.  The thought of someone listening to her every movement
preyed on her mind and kept her from drifting off.  She didn’t know if she actually talked in her sleep but
the idea of anyone eavesdropping on her dreams was repellant to her.  She wished that Mulder hadn’t
insisted on leaving the bugs in place, but she understood the rationale and was forced to agree with it.  She
looked at the clock.  It was nearly 5:30 a.m.  She gave up on any hope of actually sleeping and reached
over, flipping on the small lamp next to her bed.

She dug around in her briefcase that still rested next to the bed and retrieved the files she had replaced
there.  She put on her glasses and spread the papers  out on the coverlet before her.  She perused the most
heavily redacted  pages, trying to piece together some of the information contained within them.

The adoption papers she set aside and concentrated on the other three folders.  Between the heavy black
lines, she found references to micro-processors and macrophages.  Her curiosity was aroused, but she
couldn’t quite make the connection.  She deduced that there was a link between the computer technology
and the mention of the immune-response systems of the human body.  She had believed that nano-
technology was science fiction until she had seen the little carbon “machines” at work in Skinner’s body
building walls in his arteries.

She was startled from her contemplation by her alarm.  It was now 6:30 and Mulder would be here at 8:00.
She replaced the pages in their folders, but not before again noticing Spender’s initials on several of them.
What role did he play in Kaitlyn Matheson’s research?  More over, what was his involvement with her
adoption?  What possible threat was the simple adoption of a child to national security?  She left the puzzle
with the files and headed for the shower.  She was very tired and she suspected it was going to be a long
day.

By the time Mulder knocked on her door, she was dressed and ready to go.  She offered him a bagel, but he
declined saying that coffee was the breakfast of champions and he was on his third helping.  She locked up
and they made their way to Mulder’s car which he had parked on the street in front of her building.

After a short drive, most of which Scully slept through, they arrived at Dr. Kim’s building.  It was still only
8:30 and Dr. Kim’s office hours began at 9:00.  Hoping to catch him in early, they took the elevator up.
The doors opened and they stepped out into the now familiar hallway.  They headed toward his office when
Scully noticed that the door to his private office was ajar.  Mulder knocked gently.  The door swung open
and Scully gasped.

There on the floor, lay Dr. Kim, a pool of blood forming under him and soaking the carpet.

Scully rushed to Dr. Kim’s side, her hand automatically seeking out his carotid artery to check for a pulse.
He wheezed, struggling for breath and his eyes fluttered open.  For a moment only the whites of his eyes
showed between the lids, then he fixed Scully with his gaze as if using her face as a focus for his ragged
breathing.

“Dr. Kim,” she whispered, “what happened?”

The doctor fought to stay conscious.  Scully quickly examined him noting a small wound to his left side,
between the ribs.  He had lost a great deal of blood and she looked up at Mulder, her face grim.  Mulder
moved quickly to the phone and dialed 911, giving their location and his badge number.  With a pale and
trembling hand, Dr. Kim reached up and grasped Scully’s lapel, trying to pull her closer.  She moved her
head down close to his lips, knowing he didn’t have much time.

“Balch Biomedical,” he rasped, “Christine told me… she found out… and they killed her… I thought,
thought…”  He gasped again, the blood rising to his lips.  “After all this time… was not in danger.”  He
drew one last strangled breath, his eyes glazed over and he became still.

Scully’s eyes hardened.  These men were not above the law!  She would see that this death didn’t go
unpunished if it was the last thing she did.  Their attempt to murder the truth had not been effective and
they now knew that Christine’s death had not been accidental either.  She looked to Mulder who wore the
same bleak visage.  They both shared the same feeling of responsibility for this man’s death.  Once again,
they had happened upon the right trail, only to have it truncated by the same “culture of lawlessness” that
they had witnessed again and again.

After making their statements to the local PD, they decided to pay another call to Marshall Matheson.
They stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk.  Mulder was about to open Scully’s door when a scraggly
looking street-person bumped into Mulder, nearly knocking him to the ground.  The man had long, stringy
brown hair and a beard and wore a filthy army-surplus jacket and baggy khaki pants.  “Sorry,” he muttered,
head bent, as he continued on his way.

++++++++++++++++++++

They pulled up to the Matheson estate.  They were once again ensconced in the library to wait for him.
Scully occupied herself with the dozens of photos arranged on top of the baby grand piano that stood in one
corner of the room.  One photo showed two men dressed in very old fashioned clothing holding rifles
before a house built into the ground ­ what was called a “sod house” ­ and a dead buffalo in the
foreground.  She took a second look.  One of the men was Theodore Roosevelt.

There were many other pictures.  One of Kaitlyn in black cap and gown, smiling holding the scroll of her
diploma with Marshall’s arm around her shoulder caught her eye.  She thought back to her own graduation,
her father standing beside her with the same pride beaming from his eyes.  Her face clouded for a moment,
remembering his disappointment when she had elected to join the bureau rather than to pursue a career in
medicine.  She was saved from her memories as Matheson joined them.

“Agents,” he greeted them.  He looked haggard, his eyes sunken behind dark circles.  “I assume you
haven’t spoken with your superior yet,” he began, his manner guarded, not at all the open and helpful man
they’d spoken to before.  “I have decided to drop this case.”

“Sir, if I may,” Mulder began, “I know that you’ve been threatened…”

“They have threatened to kill Kaitlyn,” he hissed, “if I talk to you again!  You must leave immediately!  I
won’t do anything that might endanger her.”

“These same men have already killed Dr. Kim,” Scully said flatly, “and I don’t think they would hesitate to
follow through with their threat.  But, sir, our presence here has already put you in danger.”  She paused a
moment to let her words sink in.  “If you cooperate, we can put you in protective custody…”

“Do you really think that there is anywhere you could put me that they couldn’t find and get to me?” he
asked, his voice becoming shrill.  “No, agents, I’m sorry.  My own life be damned, I won’t do anything to
risk Kaitlyn’s safety.  I can’t help you any further.”  He motioned to the door, in effect, throwing them out.

They moved toward the door as Matheson led the way.  “One more thing, sir,” Mulder said, “How did Mrs.
Matheson die?”

Matheson looked surprised by the question.  “She died in a car crash, Agent Mulder.  Now, please, leave,”
he said and resolutely closed the door behind them.

“That was very good, Marshall.”  The man’s voice came out of the shadows of the dining room across the
foyer from where Matheson had received the agents.  He trailed smoke in his wake as he crossed to the
door where the harried man stood.  “I’d hate for anything to happen to Kaitlyn if they were to come back.”

“You promised not to harm her,” Matheson pleaded.

“And I always keep my promises,” he wheezed, dropping his cigarette on the parquet floor and crushing it
out with the toe of his shoe.  “Always.”  He left as the agents pulled out of the drive, leaving the smell of
smoke and fear behind him.

Mulder maneuvered the car down the Matheson drive.  His thoughts were preoccupied by the previous
events.  He knew that Matheson’s only concern was for his niece, but he was frustrated by his change of
heart.

He reached into his pocket for his cell.  He needed to call Skinner.  He felt something clink against the
plastic and wrapped his hand around it.  He pulled it out and found a small vial sealed with a red stopper.
His brows came together in a confused frown.  A small piece of paper had been rubber-banded to it.  He
handed it to Scully.  “Hey, Scully?” he inquired, “Do you know what this is?”

Scully took the vial from his hand.  She removed the rubber-band and paper holding the vial to the light.
“It’s a test tube,” she replied, “where did it come from?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder said, “I just found it in my pocket.”  Mulder thought for a moment.  “Maybe
Matheson…”  he stopped, remembering the homeless man who had nearly bowled him over.  “Son-of-a-
bitch!” he swore.  “Our friendly neighborhood rat, and I didn’t even recognize him.”

Scully looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.  “Excuse me?”

“Krycek.  He looked like a street person, he almost knocked me down in the street outside Dr. Kim’s office.
He must have slipped that in my pocket,” Mulder said with a begrudging sense of admiration.  “Right there,
and I let him go.”

Mulder pounded the steering wheel, “Damn!”  He headed the car toward D.C. beating himself mentally for
letting the bastard slip through his fingers again.  “Can you get that under a microscope and meet me in
Skinner’s office?” he asked.

“Sure,” Scully said, “It shouldn’t take too long to determine what it isn’t, but as for what it is…” she shook
her head, “I’ll do my best,” she sighed.

After a short drive, they pulled into the parking garage of the J. Edgar Hoover Building and split up.
Mulder headed for the A.D.’s office and Scully for the lab.  Hopefully they would have some answers soon.

+++++++++++++++
 

Kimberly sat at her desk pouring over the day’s mail.  She looked up as Mulder entered the outer office.
She recognized the look of determination on his face and simply nodded, reaching for the intercom.  “Sir?”
she said into it, “Agent Mulder is here to see you.”

“Send him in,” came Skinner’s clipped reply, hollow and tinny through the small speaker.

Mulder smiled his thanks at the petite redhead who reminded him somehow of Scully.  She smiled back
and watched him as he disappeared through the door.

“Have a seat, Mulder,” Skinner began, “I’ve had a call from the director…”

“We’ve just come from Marshall Matheson’s place,” Mulder cut him off.  “I’m not surprised that we’ve
been pulled from this case.”

Skinner’s eyebrows went up, but he said nothing.  He folded his hands on the desk before him and waited
for Mulder to continue.

“We’ve found some alarming evidence, sir.  Something that I’m sure will interest you particularly,” he
waited for his superior to interject, but when he did not, Mulder continued.  “Dr. Matheson created the
nano-machines with which you were infected.  We also found traces of the black oil in her room.  We
believe that she’s infected with it, sir ­ being controlled by it.”  Mulder paused to let his words soak in.
“And that’s not all,” he said, his voice becoming harder, “the residue that Scully analyzed also contained
the same nano-technology.”

Skinner’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth.  It was the only outward sign of the storm brewing within,
camouflaged by the cool exterior he always maintained.  “I see,” he said, his voice carefully modulated,
“and that means what, exactly?”

“It means, sir, that Dr. Kaitlyn Matheson was directly responsible for your compromised position,” Mulder
said flatly.  “It also means that they have every reason to keep us from finding her.”

They were distracted by a light knock at the door.  Scully walked into the room and took her usual seat next
to Mulder, her face deathly serious as she held up the vial Mulder had discovered between her fingers.

“What did you find?” Mulder asked her without preamble.

“What I found, Mulder, is another piece of a larger puzzle,” she said.  “This vial contains more of the black
oil, as I suspected.  It also contains human blood and thousands of the nano-machines.”  She shook her
head, “But here’s the surprising part, the things have rendered the black oil inert.  They seem to be
consuming it.”

Skinner looked at her in open shock.  “What do you mean, ‘consuming it’?”

“Just that, sir.  It seems to be acting as a kind of macrophage.  Killing and consuming it the same way the
human immune system does an infection,” she shook her head.  “Frankly, I’m at a loss.  I’ll need more
time.  I want to send a sample to Quantico to analyze and DNA-type the blood, to see if it’s a factor in what
I’m seeing.”  She spread her hands out in front of her.  “I can’t explain it, but I’m willing to bet that Dr.
Matheson can.”

“Look,” Skinner began, “first of all, it was Krycek that was in control of those,” his face contorted into a
look of pure disgust, “things that were put in me.  Do you think he could have somehow compromised Dr.
Matheson?  Forced her to give him the technology?”

“To what end?” Mulder posed.  “If Krycek is working with them, what benefit is her research to him?
Other than to keep it from being used against them?  In any case, why give it to us?”

“Krycek gave this to you?” Skinner snapped.

“In a round about way, sir, yes,” Scully explained.  She proceeded to tell of the reverse pick-pocket act
while Mulder looked angrily at his shoes, saying nothing.  “The only logical explanation would seem to be,
that he is not working for them as Mulder put it, but wanted us to have this information.”

Mulder shook his head, refusing to believe that Krycek would do anything to help them in any way, unless
he himself was to benefit from their enlightenment.  He pulled out the paper that had been secured around
the vial.  “It would seem, sir, that we need to head to Black Crow,” he said.

Skinner nodded.  “This time, agents,” he began, “I agree.  I want some answers.”

Mulder and Scully stood to leave.  Skinner stopped them as they reached the door.  “And agents?  Be
careful.”  They nodded gravely and left to prepare for their flight.
 

++++++++++++
 

Kaitlyn retched as the last of the black oil poured from her.  It slithered into the ship through the spiral
engraved on its top.  She slid down the side of the craft, plummeting the last eight feet in a free-fall.  She
heard the nauseating crack and screamed in pain as her wrist broke under her as she hit the ground.
Clutching it gingerly to her chest, she curled up into a fetal ball and sobbed.  She prayed that the end would
come quickly and that her sacrifice wouldn’t be for naught.

She thought back to her work with Dr. Orgel.  They had been ecstatic at the success of their research.  They
had toasted the infinite possibilities for their creation in the alleviation of human suffering; the eradication
of cancerous cells from within the body without damage to the surrounding healthy tissues, the destruction
of the HIV virus before it could replicate itself and destroy its host, the correction of genetic abnormalities
and damage.  They had playfully practiced their acceptance speeches for the Nobel Prize.  Later, he had
told her with tears in his eyes how the little machines had been adapted as a weapon by the same men who
had funded their research.  He had tried to contact the man at the FBI, to tell him of the danger inherent in
the technology, to prevent its export.  That was the last time she had seen him alive.

That had been when Alex had contacted her.  She had been on her way to the funeral when a dark and
handsome man had climbed into her car at the end of her drive.  He had dropped the small controller device
onto the seat between them and asked if she would be interested in how he had come by it.  She had been
terrified, but listened, became intrigued and then furious.  He had answered many questions that she had
only asked herself.  Questions about her origins and her abilities, things she had, over her life, come to
realize were not common to everyone.  She also had an uncanny ability to “read” people ­ to determine
their true motives and intent as if their hidden emotions were displayed behind glass.

She had seen intricate layers of truths embedded in deceptions within Alex Krycek.  He had made no
attempt to shield his agenda from her, telling her everything in an unadorned and brutal narrative.  When
his tale was complete, he had sat silent waiting for her reply.  He had shattered all her illusions and broken
her heart with his words and truths, but she knew in her heart that truths they had indeed been and she had
agreed to help him as only she could.

She blinked the tears from her eyes.  She scooted across the cement floor until she came to a wall.  The
only light in the silo chamber came from pinholes in the doors 80 storeys above her, giving the illusion of
stars over her head.  She propped herself up against the wall, cradling her throbbing wrist and waited,
willing herself to die, missing Alex with all her heart.

++++++++++++++++++++

Alex brushed the leaves from his hair as he rose from his hiding place beneath  them.  Darkness had fallen
and he would be able to conceal himself within it.  He had witnessed the commotion that had accompanied
the discovery of the guard’s body.  He had watched from his burrow as they had unceremoniously dumped
it into the back of a covered truck and hauled it away.  The guard had been replaced and Alex had spent the
past several hours watching his movements, timing his circuits as he moved along a beat covering about
100 yards along the fence.

He skirted the trees and arrived at a point just before the gate.  The guard crossed before him and he made a
dash through the unrepaired gate and into the complex.  He was soon inside the elevator, descending into
the ground.  He dodged another guard and headed through the maze of hallways to the door he remembered
all too well.  The door stood open and a gruff voice from within stopped him cold in his tracks.  He
flattened himself against the wall beside the door, his hand going automatically to the knife strapped to his
thigh.

Kaitlyn was shoved roughly through the door, stumbling and falling to the ground. She cried out in pain as
she took the fall on her shoulder while trying to protect her injured wrist.  She was followed by a large
brutish man who menaced her with an automatic rifle.  Alex moved like a jungle cat.  Coming in behind the
man, he grabbed his head with his left hand and slit his throat, quickly and quietly, with his right.  He
gurgled faintly and fell dead to the floor, his eyes wide with surprise.

Kaitlyn turned to face her captor as he hit the ground.  The surprise and shock registering on her face as she
recognized Alex’s face.  He moved quickly to her side, kneeling down next to her.  “Can you walk?’ he
asked softly.  She was trembling, but her relief at his presence was palpable as she nodded silently.  He
helped her to her feet and they retreated back to the room where the ship was kept.  He let go of her long
enough to grab the dead man’s feet and weapon and dragged him inside with them.

He stripped off the jacket of his black fatigues and quickly mopped up most of the puddle of blood that had
formed under the dead man.  He slipped back through the door and pulled it almost closed.  He turned to
Kaitlyn.  “How badly are you injured?” he asked, his hand going up to gently caress her cheek.  His green
eyes filled with compassion and concern.

“It ­ it’s broken,” she stammered and held up her left hand for his inspection.  It was swollen and had
begun to turn an angry shade of purple.  He shed his undershirt and ripped it into strips.  He disassembled
the guard’s rifle and made a crude splint from the stock, securing it to her wrist with the shreds of cloth.
She winced as he immobilized her hand.  As soon as he had finished, they retrieved the duffel she had
hidden close to the ship.

He pulled a small flashlight from one of his pockets.  He opened the duffel and pulled the control device
from it.  He held it steady and trained the light on the keypad as Kaitlyn pushed the numbers in with her
right hand.  “Show time,” he said, his eyes hard.

Kaitlyn met his gaze with her own dark eyes, glinting with malice toward the thing inside the ship.  “Let’s
hope this works,” she answered and pressed the final sequence into the key pad.

+++++++++++++++

Mulder and Scully pulled into Dulles early to catch their 6:45am flight.  After a layover in Minneapolis, the
arrived in Fargo at around 10:20 and hit the rental counter, tired but hopeful.  Mulder presented the clerk
with the Bureau’s credit card and a friendly smile.  She smiled back and handed him the keys to a dark red
sedan.  “Thanks, uh ­ Kelly,” he said reading her name from the tag on her left lapel.  She blushed and
wiggled like a praised puppy.

“Thank you, Fox,” she purred reading his name off the rental agreement.

Scully nearly suppressed the smirk.  She reached for her bag and took the keys from Mulder’s hand.
“Coming, Fox?” she teased.  A small giggle bubbled its way up before she could put the brakes on it.  He
gave her his best “what’s-a-guy-to-do?” look, picked up his own bag and followed her to the lot where their
car was waiting.  Scully unlocked the trunk and tucked her small suitcase inside. She unlocked her door,
climbed in, leaned across to unlock his door and inserted the key into the ignition.  Mulder slid in behind
the wheel and they were off.  They picked up Highway 10 west out of town then linked up with I-94,
beginning their long drive across North Dakota.

About two hours later, Scully’s cell phone chirped in her pocket, startling her from a light and
uncomfortable sleep.  She pulled it out and pushed the button, “Scully.”

“Agent Scully,” Kirsch’s voice slashed through the tiny speaker with a tone that caused her to
unconsciously sit up straight in her seat.

“Yes, sir,” she acknowledged.

“Agent Scully, you and Agent Mulder are to break off your investigation immediately.  This case has been
closed,” he said in an authoritative monotone.  “A.D. Skinner has been removed from this case as well.  I
will expect you in my office as soon as you arrive back in D.C.”  The line went dead as he hung up in her
ear.

“Well, Mulder,” Scully said with a sigh, “it would seem that we’re on the right track.  That was Kirsch.”
She proceeded to tell him about the cessation of the case and their appointment for a butt chewing.  Mulder
stared straight ahead, chewing on his lip, waiting for Scully to demand that he turn around and head back to
Fargo.

“Well,” she said, “he didn’t say when we had to be back in D.C.”  She smiled.  “I’m really interested to
know what it is we aren’t supposed to find in Black Crow.”

Mulder grinned ear to ear.  “What a rebel,” he teased, “you’re so turning me on.”

Scully just rolled her eyes and laughed as more of North Dakota unfolded before them.

The agents pulled up before the fence surrounding the silos.  There was a flurry of activity behind it.
Several men in olive drab fatigues moved about as if looking for something, their movements seemed to be
directed by someone in a black limo.  Mulder flashed his ID to the guard who had come up to his window.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, his hand on his side-arm, “this area is restricted.  Unless you have a warrant, I’m
afraid you’ll have to leave.”

Mulder was just about to try to bullshit his way in when a familiar figure came walking toward them.  “Mr.
Mulder,” he said casually as if they were old friends, “what brings you here?”  A malignant smile played
across his lips as he put his cigarette to them and drew on it deeply.

“Oh, you know,” Mulder quipped, “we were out for a drive, enjoying the countryside.  What brings you to
this neck of the woods?  Did some absentminded lab tech leave your cage unlatched?”

“I see you have your mother’s sense of humor, Fox,” he retorted blowing smoke in Mulder’s face, “how
droll.”  He dropped the butt and ground it out with his heel.  “I believe that your search for Dr. Matheson is
over.  She’s dead.”

“If she’s dead,” Scully challenged, “why all the fuss?”  she indicated the men fanned out across the area
with a jerk of her head.  “What are they looking for ­ Easter eggs?”

“Ah, Miss Scully, I see your sense of humor remains intact as well.  I’m sure that Director Kirsch will be
very amused when he calls for your disciplinary hearing on gross insubordination.  You were ordered to
return to D.C., were you not?” he asked digging into his pocket for the pack of Morley’s that always
resided there.  He plucked one out and lit it with an expensive gold Calibri.

“What do you know about Kaitlyn Matheson’s birth and adoption?” she asked ignoring his attempt to
intimidate or bait her ­ she wasn’t certain which, and frankly she didn’t care.  She had had quite enough of
his bullying and lies.  “Your signature appears on several documents relating to those events.”

He merely smiled and answered, “More than you would believe, my dear.”

Scully set her jaw in belligerence.  “Try me,” she shot back at him.  Daring him to tell her another lie.

Spender turned and motioned to the limo.  Gravel snapped and popped under the wheels as it pulled
through the gate.  It stopped within a few feet of him, the driver moving with alacrity to open the door for
him.  “What you’re looking for isn’t here anymore, Fox.  And Dr. Matheson’s dead.  Go home, both of
you,” he looked pointedly at Scully, “before you get hurt.  There are so many things you think you know,
but you do not.  If you persist in this investigation, I fear you may come to harm.”

“Is that a threat, you black-lunged son-of-a-bitch?” Mulder bristled.  He took a menacing step toward the
smoking man.  Scully put a restraining hand on his shoulder and he stopped, but the muscles there twitched
in frustration at being thwarted.

“It would seem to me that the nature of this case has changed.  We’re no longer investigating a
disappearance, but a murder,” Scully smiled sweetly at the older man, “if, of course, what you’ve told us it
true.”  She was certain in her gut that Kaitlyn Matheson was not dead, but she was equally certain that she
would be if Spender found her before Mulder and she did.

“Regardless,” Spender replied, “you’re wasting your time here.  Go home, keep your jobs.”  He retreated
into the back seat of the limo, his driver seeing him safely ensconced and closing the door.  He climbed into
the limo without meeting their eyes.  The limo pulled away, leaving Mulder and Scully standing with the
guard who had backed to a discreet distance during the exchange.  He still had his hand on his weapon and
they knew that no amount of bullshit was going to get them past him.

The two climbed back into the rental, Mulder spraying gravel and dirt as he peeled out.  Scully watched
him as he drove.  A vein stood out and throbbed in his temple, his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth in
frustration.  His nostrils flared as he refused to let his anger rise free to the surface, but she could see it
boiling there under his cool exterior.

“It’s getting late,” she observed quietly, “how about we go into Black Crow and see if they have a motel
and grab a bite?  I think if he wants us to leave, then we should stick around.  Dr. Matheson is obviously
not there, but it seems apparent that she was.  She might still be in the area and if we don’t find her first…”
she let her voice trail off.  They were very aware of what the smoking man was capable, having both been
on the receiving end of his deficient conscience.

Mulder pulled into the parking lot of the Dew Drop Inn, the only motel in Black Crow.  Scully’s nose
wrinkled momentarily, but she said nothing. They went inside the small cinder-block office where a woman
of about 65 sat behind a counter, topped with a two-inch sheet of badly scratched Plexiglas, reading last
month’s Cosmo.  A sheet of blue paper advertising their rates had been laminated to the window with strips
of clear tape, the edges of which were soiled and peeling.  Scully was dismayed when she saw that they
actually had an hourly rate.

Mulder rapped the pane gently with his knuckles.  The old woman held up one finger and reached behind
her, retrieving a key on a red plastic tag from its place on a peg-board, without looking up from her
magazine.  She marked her place, stood slowly and leaning on the chair, desk and counter, made her way to
the half-moon hole at the bottom of the barrier.  “Cash or charge?” she asked pushing the key toward him
through the opening.

Mulder slid his credit card through.  “Two rooms, please,” he smiled at her.

Her brows went up as she looked from Mulder to Scully and back, but she turned around and painfully
retrieved the first key’s neighbor.  She ran the card through its paces.  It cleared and she pushed the charge
slip and the key towards Mulder.  He signed the one and gave the other to Scully.  “Kirsch is gonna have
kittens when he gets the bill,” she smirked, “we’re not even supposed to be here.  Do you think we could
convince him we were just having a romantic interlude at the government’s expense?”

Mulder laughed.  “Do you think they’d pay for one?” he asked her archly.  She smiled tiredly and they
headed out into the chill early evening.

They had spent hours on the road and agreed that they would both rather shower than eat.  Mulder pulled
the car around to park it in a space between their rooms and retrieved their luggage.  They made plans to
meet in an hour and parted to inspect their rooms.

Mulder slid the key in the lock.  With a click, the door swung open, banging softly against the wall
perpendicular to it.  He flipped on the light switch and tossed his bag on the bed.  He slid the chain into
place and turned the deadbolt.  The switch had illuminated two small bedside lamps.  Their dark blue
shades cast the entire room in shades of azure and Mulder had to laugh.  It looked like a whorehouse, right
down to the mirrored ceiling.  He could just see Scully’s face when she saw this.  At least there was a
television, the thought to himself.  He shed his jacket and tie and he flipped the set on in passing.  Any
doubts he had about the nature of the motel was removed when he heard panting and moaning coming from
the small speakers. He left it on, but finished stripping on the way to the bathroom.

****
 

Scully unlocked her door and entered her room.  She gasped when she turned on the light.  Like Mulder’s,
her room was decked out like a house of ill-repute.  Frilly red lampshades with black lace trim graced the
lamps beside her bed, which was covered in a red satiny bedspread.  It looked like a kind of erotic hell right
down to the red carpet.  She sighed and dropped her briefcase and purse on the small table situated by the
window.  She flipped on the TV in her room and was greeted by the same moaning and heavy breathing.
She grinned as she imagined Mulder finding the same programming.  She rotated through the channels until
she came to a local news broadcast and listened to it idly as she headed to the bathroom.  She flipped on the
light which glared brightly white and was relieved to find it at least clean.  She opened her suitcase and
pulled out a pair of jeans and a soft, warm sweater and lay them neatly across the bed while she shed her
jacket and shoes.  The news anchor talked about a break-in at a local sporting goods store as she finished
undressing.  Scully heard the station’s meteorologist discussing the possibility of heavy snows as she
turned on the tap and climbed into the steaming water.

Mulder lathered his hair and body perfunctorily, then rinsed off, standing under the hard spray letting the
flow of hot water carry away his stress.  After a few blissful minutes, he shut off the tap and stepped out of
the shower, his hard swimmer’s body glistened in the blue light.  He grabbed one of the rough white towels
folded neatly in the rack above the toilet and dried himself, finishing up by rubbing it vigorously across his
head, drying his hair somewhat.  He wrapped the towel around his waist and stood in front of the large
plate glass mirror over the sink.  Grabbing his toothbrush he gave his teeth a quick going-over and then ran
a comb through his hair, which was standing straight up after its agitation.
 
Mulder dug in his bag and retrieved a clean pair of black boxers and jeans.  He dove in again, pulling out a
matching t-shirt and a sweater made of thick gray wool.  He stepped into his jeans as he heard Scully’s
knock.  He buttoned them en route, pausing long enough to peek through the spy hole, then unlock both
chain and bolt.  He opened it for her, letting it swing wide as he headed back to pick up the cotton shirt and
pull it over his head.  A gust of icy air rushed into him as he pulled the sweater on after it.  “Is it me, or is it
suddenly much colder out there?” he inquired with a shiver.

Scully hastily closed the door.  She studied the décor while reminding herself that not only was Mulder her
partner, but she was his doctor and that it would be inappropriate for her to watch him dress.  Her eyes
made the circuit around the tacky room coming to the mirrored ceiling in time to see Mulder dropping his
pants down his hips to tuck in his shirt.  She let her eyes linger on his flat stomach under the dark cotton
until Mulder caught her eye in the mirror.  She quickly looked at the blue satiny lampshade, missing the
smile that lit up Mulder’s face at having caught her looking.  “The forecast is for snow,” she said,
“Hungry?”  She turned to the TV, then turned to him, her composure completely intact, “Looks like that
movie that isn’t yours finally made it to cable.”  Mulder’s eyes crinkled with his smile, “Don’t you know
Kirsch is going to go postal when he sees that charge on the bill?  Lends credibility to the tryst theory.  A
very clever deception on my part, if I do say so myself,” he grinned.  He donned his shoes and they headed
out into the, now, cold evening.

Everything in Black Crow was within walking distance.  They quickly decided on the closest restaurant,
which was a greasy spoon across the street from the motel.  The sky was the shade of mercury.  They
pushed through the door of Pete’s Café with the wind shoving them from behind.  The café was warm and
the smells coming from the small kitchen were inviting and appetizing.  They situated themselves in a
booth next to the window and pulled out the laminated menus from between the sugar dispenser and salt
and pepper shakers.  A middle-aged, dark-haired woman ambled up to the table, placing two glasses of
water before them.  “Something to drink?” she asked with a tired smile.  They both asked for coffee.  She
pulled a pencil from behind her ear, marking the order on the check as she made her way behind the
counter.

Mulder perused the menu and settled on chicken fried steak with country gravy and mashed potatoes.  He
had begun the day with a doughnut and coffee and hadn’t eaten since.  Scully opted for the BLT and big
bowl of vegetable beef soup.  Their food arrived in short order and they ate while they discussed their
options.

Scully wrapped her cold hands around the bowl of soup.  The smell that greeted her nose was delightful.
She picked up her spoon and went to work on it, pausing from time to time to take a bite of the BLT.  The
tomato was a bit mushy, but given the season, she was grateful for the hothouse from which it must have
come.  The soup was actually better than her mother’s.  Mulder was making short work of his plate, which
was completely covered by his steak and smothered with the creamiest white gravy.  She said a silent
prayer for his arteries and then watched with an amused smile as he tried to wolf it down politely.

Between bites, they began their search for Kaitlyn Matheson.  Scully believed that she had been able to
escape her captors and had fled into the woods on foot.  She felt a guilty pang for enjoying her hot soup,
thinking of the rapidly falling temperature and Dr. Matheson’s likely unprepared attire.  They finished
eating quickly and after paying the check, walked a half-block down the street to Burnett’s Hardware and
Sporting Goods Discount.  A huge piece of cardboard was taped to the door frame, covering the hole left by
missing glass.

Mulder purchased another gift for Kirsch’s blood pressure in the form of two blizzard weight snow suits
and an expensive pair of night vision binoculars.  He chose boots and arctic weight socks that were heated
by a small battery secured in the top band.  He concluded with two pairs of ski gloves and caps.

Mr. Burnett pushed the credit card slip across the counter with a big smile.  It wasn’t often he made such
big ticket sales, and business had been slow lately.  He proceeded to tell Mulder as much, chatting him up
while he signed the paper, “yeah, and after the break in last night, I thought we were goners for sure.”
Mulder’s ears perked up.

“You had a break in last night?” he asked casually.

“Yeah, damnedest thing, too.  Mostly clothes and camping gear, they left $5000 in the drawer,” he mused
shaking his head.  “Hell, I was grateful.  Missy closed up last night and didn’t do the receipts, told me she
was tired and would do them this morning.  I thought sure we were bankrupt when the police phoned to tell
me about it.  Insurance’ll pay for the stock, but cash in the drawer is harder to prove,”  he said with a wink.

Mulder smiled in response to Burnett’s quip.  “Were there any arrests?” he inquired.

“No, they were long gone by the time Earl saw the glass broken.  But he figured it was kids,” his face
darkened slightly, “There are a few around here that run wild.”

Mulder nodded in sober sympathy, “Yeah, the streets aren’t safe these days.”  He thanked Mr. Burnett and
made ready to leave, grabbing two of the four large bags.  Scully, who had been silently monitoring their
conversation, moved forward and took the other two while the shopkeeper hurried from behind the counter
to hold the door for them.

The snow had just begun to fall and they had to lean into the wind.  The ground looked like it had been
sprinkled with flour.  Small hard pellets of sleet had preceded the large fluffy flakes that now fell by about
twenty minutes covering the landscape in a powdery blanket of white.  They saw no one else on the street
as they made their way back to the motel, giving Scully second thoughts about the night’s proposed
activities.

Mulder set the bag in his right hand against the door on the ground while he dug in his pocket for the key.
He retrieved it quickly and opened the door.  Scully dropped both sacks on Mulder’s bed and began to
remove their contents.  Mulder pushed the door closed behind them with a bump of his butt and his burden
joined hers on the bed.

They pulled on the snow suits over their clothes and were starting to sweat as they pushed their heated feet
into the boots.  They headed out into the worsening weather in search of Dr. Matheson.

They stepped out into the night.  Scully was immediately grateful for the bulky snowsuit.  The temperature
was continuing to plummet, but the wind was slowing and the snow was beginning to fall in huge lumps.  It
reminded her of the way the snow fell in a Charlie Brown cartoon.  She smiled at the memories that flooded
her mind.  Missy and herself sitting together in their pajamas, nestled under a blanket with cups of hot
chocolate, watching poor Charlie Brown picking out the most pitiful Christmas tree on the lot, while the
Scully family tree twinkled merrily in the corner.

“You ready?” he asked.  Mulder had retrieved several items from the trunk of the rental.  He stood there
holding a large flashlight and a can of spray paint.  He unzipped his snowsuit and retrieved his weapon
from its holster under his arm.  He zipped up hastily as he slipped the gun in his front pocket through a slit
in the side.  Scully followed suit.  She took the flashlight and they headed out towards Burnett’s.

Mulder pointed to a small space that ran between Burnett’s neighbor, a dress shop, and the next building.
Scully directed the light toward it as she headed in after him.  “If someone steals camping gear, it would
stand to reason that they want to go camping, don’t you think?” Mulder asked.  “This comes out right next
to the woods,” he said as they exited the narrow alley.  Scully looked out at the trees that stood about 20
yards from the back of the buildings.  She took the point position with the flashlight as Mulder followed
close at her elbow.

They walked further and further into the trees.  Scully playing her light through them, looking for some
sign of life.  Mulder had been marking trees with blasts from the spray paint.  Bright orange “X”s marked
their path.  They had been covering the area back and forth, deeper into the woods with each pass, but had
found nothing.  Mulder’s paint can had become worthless about three trees ago, its nozzle frozen up and
clogged.

“Mulder, I don’t think we’re going to find anything in this mess,” she began.  “The snow is getting pretty
deep, too.  Don’t you think we’d better head back?”

Mulder looked down at the snow about to crest the tops of his boots.  “You’re right, Scully,” he conceded,
“If she is out here, we’ll never find her in this.”  They turned back toward the motel, following the big
orange “X”s.

Ten feet from Mulder’s last footprint stood a small pup-tent, the snow a foot thick over its black vinyl roof.
Two people huddled together in a single thermal sleeping bag, waiting out the storm.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

They had managed to escape the silo compound without detection.  Alex had pushed her to the limits of her
endurance, but it had been necessary for their survival.  They had skirted the highway, keeping to the trees
as much as they could.  They had come to Black Crow a few hours before daybreak.  Alex had sniffed the
air and caught the scent of snow.  His youth in Russia had taught him to recognize the signs of a coming
blizzard.

He had dug out a niche for Kaitlyn.  She had settled into it gratefully and he had covered her with leaves.
With her securely hidden, he had ventured toward the tiny town to scavenge like the rat he had become.
His only concern was their survival and he couldn’t afford a conscience with which to wrestle.  He slunk
silently and quickly from the cover of the trees.  The sporting goods store should have everything he
needed.  It was risky, but he knew without supplies, they would die.  He picked up a brick in the small
alleyway.  After noting the town’s one police car parked at the end of the main street in front of the station,
he smashed the brick through the front door of the shop.

He moved with alacrity, selecting first a heavy sweater to cover his bare chest.  He pulled it over his head
and continued shopping.  Next was a large backpack designed for cross-country hiking.  He opened it and
began to shove things inside.  He took warm clothes for Kaitlyn, guessing about her size and pushed them
into the pack.  They were followed by a first aid kit and several rolls of Ace bandages, a large battery
powered lantern and several packs of batteries, and a large canteen.  He dug around until he found a small
tent that collapsed into a cylindrical bundle about three feet long by six inches around and fit inside a vinyl
carrying case.  He next grabbed a large insulated sleeping bag, securing it to the provided spot on the pack.
He found a couple of boxes of energy bars and they joined the rest of the booty inside.  Lastly, he moved
behind the counter and removed a rifle from the rack built into the wall there.  Shoving three boxes of
ammo into the bag, he secured it, hefted it onto his back and after slinging the tent over his shoulder,
snatched up the rifle.  He looked longingly at a small kerosene heater, but left it where it sat.  It would
become a bigger liability than it was worth, he didn’t have enough hands and Kaitlyn would be unable to
carry it.  A quick look up and down the street assured him that all was clear and he headed back into the
woods to find Kaitlyn.

He found her sleeping under the blanket of leaves.  She looked drawn and pale.  He knew she was in
terrible pain, but she did not complain.  His heart swelled with admiration for her.  She was tough beneath
that delicate exterior, there beat the heart of a warrior.  He respected her strength and he had to admit ­ he
loved her.  Helping her to stand, they moved out further into the trees.  They hiked for about two hours
before Krycek, noticing Kaitlyn stagger for the sixth time, stopped her, sitting her down on a large tree
root.  He pulled the tent from its carrying case and shook it.  It popped open as the metal stays sewn into the
vinyl sprung out to resume their natural, unfettered shape.  He pushed the small tent back into a cluster of
scrub trees, giving the tent camouflage from anyone not standing on top of it.

He helped Kaitlyn to put on the warm clothes and re-bandaged her wrist.  She winced and tears welled up
in her eyes, but she made no sound.  He unrolled the sleeping bag helping her to climb inside both it and
the tent.  He rummaged around inside the bag for a couple of energy bars, hid the pack under the same
brush and climbed in with her.  He offered her the chocolate flavored bar, but she demurred.  He nodded his
understanding and held her as she snuggled up close to him and fell almost instantly asleep.

Mulder and Scully traipsed up to their respective doors at the motel.  They were both exhausted, cold and a
bit cranky.  They hadn’t spoken for the last mile of their journey, not because they were angry, but because
they were defeated.  With the snow coming down so fast, they both figured that if they did find Kaitlyn
Matheson, it would be her frozen corpse.  Stomping the snow from their boots, they each entered their
rooms, muttering a quiet “goodnight”.

Scully unzipped her snowsuit and shed it.  Her breath fogged out as she stripped the rest of her clothes and
pulled on her favorite flannel pajamas. She adjusted the knob on the wall heater to high and hoped that it
would heat the room before she froze to death.  Shivering, she pulled back the covers on the bed and
nestled down inside it.  Grabbing the remote control, she flipped through the channels in search of a
mindless diversion.  She found an old Marx Brothers movie after the fourth channel and settled on it,
needing a good laugh.  She propped her back up against the headboard and several pillows and pulled the
covers to her chin, wishing that the heater would hurry up and do its thing.  The last thing she saw was
Groucho sitting at a table in a hotel restaurant telling Margaret Dumont that looking at him was the price
she had to pay for the meal, as her eyes slowly closed, a smile on her lips.

Mulder dropped the flashlight on the bed and threw the paint can in the trash.  He stripped down to his
shorts and stretched out on the bed, kicking the flashlight to the floor in the process.  He turned on the TV
and flipped through the channels coming to rest on the one with the porno.  He turned down the volume and
watched himself in the mirrors above his bed.  He didn’t really care anything about the movie, but some
childish part of him wanted to make Kirsch pay for it.  Random thoughts tumbled through his mind as he
stared himself down in the mirror.  He thought about the X-Files and tried to analyze his nearly fanatical
devotion to them, which brought him to Scully.  She had been his most stubborn foil when his imagination
took flight into extreme possibilities and his most stalwart supporter when the evidence had proved his
theories correct.  Poor Scully, what was she giving up for him?  A family?  A career in medicine?  A life?
He felt suddenly sad for that all he perceived he had kept her from achieving in her life.  Regret and self-
condemnation lulled him into a fitful sleep.

Scully woke shivering violently.  The heater apparently was not working at all and the room was extremely
cold.  A keening noise assaulted her ears just seconds before the ceiling burst with icy water, drenching her
and the bed.  She shrieked and flew from the bed, but not before she was soaked.  She used a few choice
expletives that would have shocked her sailor brother and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel.  Her bag,
which had been sitting in a chair next to the bed was filling with water, all her clothes drenched. She
grabbed the bag and moved it from beneath the deluge, wrapped the towel close around herself and ran next
door.  She banged on the door with her fist nearly convulsing with shivering.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Alex gently put a hand over Kaitlyn’s mouth.  He had heard snapping twigs and footfalls.  “Shhh,” he
breathed quietly into her ear.  He moved very slowly, reaching for the rifle in the dark.

“The snow is getting pretty deep, too.  Don’t you think we’d better head back?”  He held his breath, the
feminine voice was very close.

“You’re right, Scully,” he heard a male voice answer, “If she is out here, we’ll never find her in this.”
Mulder?! he thought with a start.  He should have known Mulder would be sent to look for Kaitlyn.  He
didn’t move, didn’t breathe, he just waited to see if they would be discovered.  He released his hold on the
rifle.  He knew that he wasn’t prepared to kill Mulder, if only because he was Spender’s unwitting pawn.
He couldn’t let Mulder take Kaitlyn, but he knew that it was useless to get himself killed in a vain effort of
resistance.  Soon he heard the footsteps retreating, the popping and snapping of the branches like gunfire in
his straining ears, but fading in the distance.

Kaitlyn buried her face into his chest.  Silent sobs shaking her small body.  He pulled her close and kissed
the top of her head.  “He’ll never give up, will he?” she asked miserably.

Alex just sighed and held her close to his chest.  She had accepted the realities of death when she had
agreed to allow herself to be infected by the black oil, agreed to take the nanites into her own system, to
deliver the virus that his confederates had created to work with her own brilliant creation.  Death she had
bravely been willing to accept, but life as a fugitive?  Like him?  That she had not counted on and the
reality of that life was hitting her hard, soaking deep into her consciousness that life on the run was the only
life left to her.  His heart was breaking for her.  He was a man without a country, without allegiances, he
had nothing more than this to offer her.

“Don’t blame yourself, Alexei,” she whispered softly into the soft indentation in his throat, reading him like
a book.  “You saved my life.”  She reached up with her good hand and caressed his stubbled cheek.

He reached up with his hands and buried them in her hair, pulling her face close to his.  His lips found hers
in the darkness.  They parted as his tongue gently probed for hers.  The kiss sparked a flame and they didn’t
notice the cold outside the small tent, their  heat would sustain them until morning.

****

Mulder grabbed and pulled on a pair of sweats at the first pounding.  He opened the door to find Scully
shivering and soaked on the other side.  He pulled her into the room and grabbed two towels from his
bathroom.  Her lips were blue from the cold.  “What happened?” he asked, as he chaffed her arms with the
towel trying to warm her up and she vigorously rubbed her head with the other.

“The damned pipe must have frozen and burst,” she explained, her voice coming out with a vibrato from
her tremors.  “Right over the bed,” she said ruefully.

Mulder rushed to his bag, pulling out a pair of pajamas and a robe.  She took them gratefully and headed
for the bathroom to change out of her wet pajamas.  She emerged a few minutes later, still toweling her wet
hair, the robe and pajamas swallowing her diminutive form.  Mulder swallowed hard, trying not to tell her
how cute and waifish she looked.  Her lips were still a bit blue, but her shivering had subsided to a slight
vibration.  He wrapped his arms around her trying to share some of his body heat with her and was
pleasantly surprised when she leaned into his embrace.

He led her over to the bed and bade her get in, pulling the covers back.  She climbed into it with an
uncharacteristic lack of fighting about it.  He covered her to her chin.  He reached for the chair intending to
sleep in it, when she shocked him again by pulling the covers back and patting the mattress beside her.
“I’m still freezing,” she said quietly.

He climbed in the bed, scooting close enough to wrap his arms around her.  She pushed back until her ass
was pressed firmly against him, like two spoons in a cupboard.  He could feel her still shaking and he
wrapped himself around her to share his body heat.  He recited a litany of baseball stats in his head in a
concerted effort to prevent his body from reacting to the closeness of hers.  Soon, the tremors ceased and he
felt her begin to relax, the muscles in her back, arms and legs slowly releasing their tetanic spasm.  She was
silent, her breathing slow and steady.  He was certain she was asleep.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her words slurred and sleepy.  She turned to face him, drawing her
knees up a bit so that they bumped his.  Her clasped hands rested on his chest.

“I was just thinking how much this is like being married,” he mused quietly.  “Sleeping in the same bed and
not having sex.”

She laid her head against the crook of his arm and giggled softly.

The phone on Mulder’s bedside table jangled, loud and shrill, waking him from a sound and peaceful sleep.
He stretched, gently extricating his arm from beneath Scully’s head, and reached for it, silencing it on the
third ring.  “Yeah, hello?” he said softly as Scully groaned and rolled over onto Mulder’s pillow, pulling
her own over her head.

“Good morning, Agent,” Skinner’s voice cut straight through the fog in Mulder’s brain.

“Good morning, sir,” Mulder replied, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“This isn’t a social call, Mulder,” he said brusquely.  “I’ve spent the past 36 hours having my ass chewed
by Director Kirsch.  He gnawed off one cheek because I sent you to North Dakota after he had closed the
case…”

“Let me guess,” Mulder popped off before he had a chance to rein it back, “the other cheek’s gone because
we didn’t come back?”

“That is correct,” Skinner deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mulder said earnestly, “You stuck your neck out to send us in the first place.  We’ll get the
first flight out of Fargo as soon as we can get there.  I don’t know what the road conditions are like, but…”

“There’s no need,” Skinner interrupted, “I should be there in about 3 hours.  After Kirsch finished bawling
me out for sending the two of you, he tells me that I am to join you and insure that Dr. Matheson is found
and detained.  Or her body recovered if that is the case.  It seems the case has been reopened and given a
higher priority.”  He stopped, giving Mulder time to absorb his words.

“I see,” Mulder responded.  Several questions and theories began to flicker in his mind like a string of
Christmas tree lights warming up, blinking hesitantly at first then becoming a fluid series of strobes.  The
one that burned brightest, was who now wanted confirmation of Dr. Matheson’s death.  After last night, her
death seemed nearly a certainty.

“Oh, Mulder,” Skinner added with the slightest smirk in his voice, “I am to inform you that the cost of the
porno movie will be coming out of your check.”  He clicked off and climbed into the waiting helicopter.

Scully stretched again, pushing her pillow off her head.  “So what’s it to be?” she asked sarcastically,
“reassignment to Kansas or 40 lashes?”  She ran her hands through her hopelessly tousled hair. “How’d
you sleep?” she inquired with a mischievous smile.

“Just like a married man,” he replied with a playfully sad shake of his head, “completely undisturbed.”  An
exaggerated pout followed his words.

Scully beamed as she rose from the bed.  She crossed the room shedding the borrowed robe on the foot of
the bed.  “See, Mulder,” she said over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom, “that’s where you’re
wrong.  If we were married, you wouldn’t have slept at all.”  And with that, she closed the bathroom door
behind her.

Mulder’s open-mouthed stare was quickly replaced by a crooked grin. “Hoo-boy!” he said softly.

***

Kaitlyn and Alex reluctantly untwined, parting with a final kiss.  The sun would be up in a couple of hours
and they couldn’t afford the luxury of lingering.  They climbed out of their thermal cocoon, quickly dressed
in all the clothes Alex had stolen, and dug their way out of the tent.

The snow had accumulated throughout the night, effectively burying their small burrow.  Alex packed up
their gear, hefting the large bundle onto his back and secured the bottom strap around his waist.  They
munched on frozen energy bars as they made their way to the main highway on the edge of town.  They
made no effort to conceal the deep ruts in the knee-deep snow, their only objective being to put as many
miles between themselves and their pursuers as possible before sunrise.

The snow had stopped falling and the wind stilled, leaving everything coated in thick silence.  Alex
checked his watch; if all went well, they would rendezvous with his connection in St. Paul by the same
hour tomorrow.  Kaitlyn was clutching her injured wrist, but was able to keep up the pace.

They cleared the edge of the woods just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.  The snowplows had been
busy and the highway was cleared and passable.  They crossed the roadway and began to head east.  Before
long, a semi-truck geared down behind them, the engine rumbling as it came to a stop in the middle of the
single eastbound lane.  “Y’all need a lift?” the driver, whose name was Dave they soon found out, asked
with a big, open and honest smile.

“Yeah, thanks,” Alex responded, leaping up to the cab and reaching out to assist Kaitlyn in climbing up.
He stowed the pack in the huge floorboard and hauled her into his lap as he closed the door behind her.
Dave asked them where they were headed.  Kaitlyn replied wistfully that they were bound where ever the
wind blew them as Dave began ascending gears and the rumble of the engine built in a slow crescendo.

++++++++++++++++

Spender paced around the car for the hundredth time in an hour.  He was filled with righteous indignation
at the summons he had received and his anger was rising at the added insult of being kept waiting.  He
pulled his overcoat closer around himself.  The night was quite cold and the steady, misty drizzle did
nothing to improve his disposition.

The puny halo of the lone security light was suddenly swallowed by a greenish glow that seemed to
emanate from everywhere.  He squinted against the intensity of the light, finally closing his eyes altogether
when the brilliance became painful.  He finally threw his arm up in an attempt to shield them further.
Then, just as suddenly, the light was gone.

The security light sat darkened for a few moments until its sensors had time to adjust.  It hummed briefly
and flickered on again casting the large lot in faint blue tones.  Spender heard the gravel crunching beneath
its feet before he was able to pick out the figure approaching from the direction of the abandoned
warehouse.  From its current distance, it seemed faintly reptilian.  The features became more human as it
strode toward him and he wondered if it was his imagination.  As it came to a halt before him, the face was
that of the heavily browed, hard-eyed being he recognized as “their” bounty hunter.

Spender had enlisted this being’s services to clean up a few messes.  One such mess was when several of
his project’s “experiments” had dared to think about the work they were assigned to do, the work by which
they themselves had resulted, and to rebel against his authority over them by exposing the genetics aspect
of the project to Mulder.  Those drones had actually had the temerity to consider themselves human!  He
took a deep drag from his cigarette, trying to calm himself.  “You’re late,” he huffed.  “The communiqué I
received specified a meeting over an hour ago.  My time is valuable.”

“You overestimate your place in the grand scheme of things,” the bounty hunter replied.  “You have a
problem,” he said with the same eerie lack of emotional inflection.

“I?” Spender said, now very nervous.  What did his “friends” know about Kaitlyn’s disappearance?

“Dr. Matheson has managed to infect the biogenetic symbiont with the use of technology that was entrusted
to you.  The colonists are very upset.”  The bounty hunter loomed over the old man maliciously.  “What
measures are being taken?”

“I have the situation under control,” Spender lied with his best poker face.  “Dr. Matheson will be acquired
and terminated shortly.”

“The colonists want her taken alive for questioning,” he stated flatly.  “She is to be delivered within the
next 72 hours.  I will be here then to take custody.  If you are unable to produce her, the colonists will be
forced to reexamine your usefulness to their plans.”  He morphed into Spender’s likeness, “You can be
replaced.”  He turned and walked away, leaving the old man standing there with cold fear gripping his
heart.

Mulder retrieved Scully’s things from her soggy room and left to procure her another while she attempted
to dry out a sweater and leggings with her blow-dryer.  She still wore Mulder’s pajamas.  She laughed out
loud when she imagined Skinner’s  reaction to finding her in Mulder’s room, wearing his pajamas ­ she
instantly knew that no one would ever believe how innocent it  had really been and decided she didn’t
really care what anyone might think of it anyway.

Meanwhile, Mulder had given up on trying to draw the lethargic old desk clerk into a friendly exchange.
He simply took the key she shoved at him with a polite “thanks” and left her to the soap opera he had
evidently sacrilegiously interrupted.  The key was to the room on the other side of his, opposite to where
she’d been before.  He headed through the parking lot swinging the key on his finger, not really noticing
the knee deep snow, but lost in contemplation of Scully’s teasing words this morning.  He had never
imagined he had a chance with his normally frosty partner, but lately she had begun loosening up a bit and
he found that he liked this Scully a lot.  Too much, he had thought, until this morning…

He looked up and noticed he was at the door of his room.  He shook his head wondering how long he’d
been standing there with this addled idiot-looking smile on his puss.  He pushed the key into the lock and
swung the door open.  His smile broadened as he saw her standing there, blow-dryer in hand, wearing the
same silly grin.  He cleared his throat loudly and shut the door with enough force to be heard over the
whine of the appliance, he didn’t want to startle her.

Scully looked up from her task at the sound, turning the dyer off to give it time to cool down.  It was a
miracle that it had survived the deluge and she didn’t want to burn out the small motor while pushing it to
perform a function for which it had never been intended.

Mulder went back outside and unlocked her door.  Moving inside, he unlocked the door that now adjoined
their rooms with a wicked thought that he quickly pushed to the back of his mind.  She had done the same
to the door in his room and soon, they had a suite.

Scully was grateful for the heated path to her room for the sake of her bare feet.  Mulder had helped her
move her things and she settled in.  The new room was equally as tacky as the one she’d vacated last night,
but it was done up in electric pink with black trim.  Like it’s counterpart, however, it was clean.  She bid
Mulder a brief farewell and closed the door between them while she showered.  The dyer was put through
more rigors as she dried out underclothes, socks, and hiking boots, then pushed it to it’s ultimate limit as
she finished drying her hair.  She laid out the rest of her clothes as best she could over furniture and the
shower rod in hopes that they would dry without turning her room into a sauna.

After a final appraisal in the glass, she squared her shoulders shifting instantly into “work” mode and
knocked on the door between their rooms.  Mulder pulled the door open and she stepped inside.  Skinner
stood looking at the mirrors on Mulder’s ceiling with an unreadable look on his face.

“How can you sleep in something like this?” he asked with a slight curl of distaste on his lips.

“I slept quite soundly and completely undisturbed, sir,” Mulder deadpanned.

Scully covered her guffaw with a cough, hiding her quirking mouth behind the loose fist of her left hand.

Skinner looked from one to the other of them, certain that he was missing a phenomenal joke, but elected
not to ask.  “Let’s get to work, shall we?” he asked.  It was not a question.  They sobered and headed out to
enlist the help of the local PD in their search for, most likely, Dr. Matheson’s remains.

They organized a search party of mostly local volunteers and the tiny hamlet’s single on-duty officer and
fanned out behind the sporting goods store, searching the area as Mulder and Scully had the night before.
Their tracks had been completely covered by the snow that had fallen during the night, but Mulder used his
tree marks to guide him to the place where they had vacated their search.  A few steps further elicited a
loud, “shit!” from him.

Scully and Skinner converged almost instantly on his location and found the source of his distress.  A large
bare spot in a snow covered copse of scrub trees and deep ruts in the snow showed that someone had
hidden here and escaped right out from under their noses.

“You know,” Skinner said, “I’m no Daniel Boone, but it looks to me as if our fugitive is not alone.”  He
pointed down at the ruts that plainly showed two sets of footprints at their bottom, one significantly larger
than the other.

“Fugitive?” Scully asked with a raised eyebrow.  “I thought that Dr. Matheson was the victim here.”

“Fugitive as of this morning, Agent Scully,” Skinner informed her.  “I received a call from Director Kirsch
en route.  Dr. Matheson is to be detained for questioning on suspicion of treason.”

“I’ll bet I know who she’s allegedly betrayed,” Mulder muttered darkly.

They followed the tracks to the point at which they disappeared into the slush abutting the plowed highway.
Mulder glanced at his watch noting that it was well past noon.  Dr. Matheson and her accomplice were long
gone, and he knew it.  He scanned the highway as it stretched out seemingly endlessly in both directions.
He mentally flipped a coin and decided that they would head east.  The search party was disbanded by
Skinner with the FBI’s thanks and the three of them trudged back to the motel.  Tired and hungry, they
elected to discuss their next move over lunch at the greasy spoon across the street.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Kaitlyn and Alex thanked Dave for the ride as they stepped down from the cab into the parking lot of the
truck stop.  He wished them good luck, then he pulled back onto the road.  They watched as he hit the
cloverleaf and made the turn south to warmer climes.

They were on the outskirts of St. Paul.  They walked from the road to the building that housed the truck
stop’s convenience store and restaurant.  Alex plugged coins into the payphone they found on the outside
wall.  After a brief hushed conversation, he and Kaitlyn made their way to the back of the building and
settled on the ground against the wall.

After a brief time, a blue sedan with darkly tinted windows pulled up a few feet from where they sat.  The
driver exited the vehicle and walked away leaving the door open and the engine running.  Alex helped
Kaitlyn to her feet and maneuvered her to the passenger side door which he opened for her.  She cast a
nervous glance in the direction the driver had gone, in time to see him climbing into another car that waited
by the road.  She shot a questioning look at Alex who only frowned slightly and shook his head.  She got in
without a word and he closed the door behind her.  He paused briefly at the trunk, which had been opened
earlier from inside and retrieved an emergency medical kit which he hoped had been stocked according to
his directions.  He tossed it in the back seat and slid in behind the wheel.  He pulled the car into gear and
drove it to the back of the large lot slipping in between two of the monstrous trucks whose drivers’ were
asleep in their berths.  He looked at her with obvious sympathy and motioned her into the backseat.

Alex joined her and proceeded to expertly tend to her injury.  He opened the med kit and pulled out a
device that looked like a laptop computer with a space-age grocery store price scanner attached to it by a
coiled cord.  He flipped the monitor open and hit the power button, setting it at his feet.  He gently
unwrapped her wrist while the computer went through its specialized boot-up sequence.

He dug in the kit again, this time pulling out a small package sealed in plastic.  He also pulled out several
syringes and needles of varying sizes and lay them on the seat between them.  He closed the lid of the kit,
which resembled a large tackle box and retrieved two vials of liquid sealed with metal caps from a small
drawer in the base of it.  Using the lid as a makeshift table, he then began opening the package.

He tore the plastic away revealing what seemed to be a box wrapped in blue napkins.  He unwrapped them
and spread them out across the surface of the lid.  The next layer was a pair of gloves followed by a blue
sheet of cloth-like paper backed with plastic which he spread out on top of the napkins careful to handle it
only by its edges.   What remained was an 11”x14”x8” container that held a scissors with blunted shovel-
like tips, two large plastic bottles, two rolls of a strange waffle-weave bandage, a long folded bit of gauze
and a thin, short piece of molded plastic.  He filled several syringes with lidocaine from the larger of the
vials.  He laid them aside on the rear-window shelf with their caps securely back in place.  He arranged the
laptop so that he could see it’s monitor clearly.  Resting her arm flat on the table, he picked up the scanner
and squeezed the trigger.  A rectangle of laser sharp red light appeared on the now purple and yellow
bruised flesh.  The bones of her wrist glowed in the monitor and he let out a small sigh of relief.  The ulna
was broken cleanly at an angle near its distal terminus and the lunate was dislocated.  It should be easy
enough to set.

Handing her the scanner, he apologized in advance and removed the cap of the first injection.  He inserted
the lidocaine in several sites along the heel of her hand and wrist, carefully pulling back a bit on the plunger
at every site to insure that he was not in a vein.  He stopped when she reported numbness up to her elbow.
With the imaging scanner to guide him, he squeezed the small wrist-bone back into place with a sickening
pop and manipulated the small piece of the broken ulna until it was flush against the larger segment.
Carefully fitting the molded plastic in place under her hand and wrist, he retrieved the container and began
to remove the things from inside.

He poured the water into the empty receptacle and unwrapped the rolls which he placed in the water.  He
unfolded the gauze revealing it to be a sort of tube and slipped it over her hand pulling it up to her elbow.
He checked the placement of the bone fragment again.  Noting that it was still in place, he pulled one of the
rolls from the water and began to cut long segments and wrap them around her hand, wrist and forearm
until he had built up many layers.  The bottom layers were hardening by the time he placed the last layer.  It
was an efficient cast by the time he had shoved the remaining mess into the med kit.  He filled a small
syringe with morphine from the smaller vial, helped her to get settled comfortably in the passenger seat,
then injected her with it.  He replaced the scanner device in the trunk and chunked the med kit in a nearby
dumpster after removing two bottles of pills from the drawer which had held the lidocaine and morphine.

By the time he got back to the car, Kaitlyn was asleep.  He climbed in and headed the car out onto the
highway toward D.C. and better connections.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The decision had been made to return to D.C.  After arranging for the pick-up of their rental, they had
boarded the helicopter that had brought Skinner and returned to Fargo.  From there, they took a commercial
flight to D.C. by way of Minneapolis, and were now on the last leg of that journey.

Mulder and Scully sat with their heads close together engaged in a hushed, but animated, conversation.
Skinner sat across the aisle reclining as far as the airline seat would go.  His eyes were closed, his mouth
slack with the lips slightly parted and faint, soft snores accompanied his breathing.

Mulder shook his head, “It wasn’t a wild goose chase, Scully.  She was here.”

“That may be, Mulder,” she interjected, “but whoever was camped out in those woods last night, is now
long gone.  We don’t even know where to begin looking for her.”

The flight attendant had come around with drinks.  Scully leaned back so that the woman could set the
glass of ice and can of Coke on the tray table in front of her.  She placed a steaming cup of coffee before
Mulder with a smi