Box.html

REVELATIONS 2: THE BOX (1/3)
by Sue Esty
AKA: WINDSINGER@aol.com
Original 3/95; revised 3/2000

Summary: Still feeling the affects from a hellish case, Mulder and
Scully are handed a little administrative task that develops into
something both sinister and dangerous. First Season. Rating: G,
believe it or not. MSR. I can't find much sex or direct violence in
this but lots of character development.

Author's note: The Box was my second X-Files submission back in
1995. As with Memories, it was originally released as a stand alone
story. Only later when working on The Abductee did the Revelations
series come into being and these three pieces became parts 2, 6 and
4, respectively and chronologically. REVELATIONS currently has 8
parts, part 7, Just the Two of Us, being really three books. Quite
a large undertaking and I am pleased to say, has been voted best
Classic story (for The Abductee) and series more than once.

About the Revision: It wasn't until 1999 that I posted Revelations
1: Dawn and since I am only just now releasing the long-awaited
Revelations 3: The Vacation, I found myself going back and re-
reading The Box. I found it delightful. (I can say that since I
barely remember writing it.) I found, however, that I wanted to add
some connection to Dawn and there was one rapid change in Mulder
mood that I no longer felt ring true. In addition, I word-smithed
awkward sentences but other than that I have not change the story
which was just fine the way it was.

Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters created by Chris
Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without
permission and no infringement is intended. Thanks guys (unisex
personal pronoun intended), for creating this marvelous stuff.

Revelations 1: The Box (1/3)

Chapter 1

FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder unfolded his long legs from the
subcompact and stretched. Couch class on the 'Red Eye' that morning
and now this. He looked up and noticed a petite and very pretty
woman with red blond hair and green eyes just getting out of a car
across the aisle in the parking lot. "Shit," he swore.

He was trim and actually quite good looking, especially when
he smiled, but he wasn't smiling now. The very pretty woman gave
him a look equally unwelcoming and, if he had known her thoughts,
would have found them equally graphic.

They knew each other -- that would have been obvious to anyone
who saw them at that moment. Strangers do not greet each other with
such obvious hostility. He had driven fifty miles around the
Washington beltway and half way to Baltimore in the last car the
rental agency had so that he would not need to share breathing
space in a vehicle with this woman. They turned toward their mutual
destination, a nondescript building popularly called 'the Annex',
but did not touch, speak or look at each other again.

It had been a dreadful month. A thoroughly unpleasant,
thankless, disgusting, unstimulating, stressful month and he was
sick of the sight of his partner.

     Her sentiments exactly.

     They had landed at Washington National Airport at six in the
morning and gone immediately by separate taxis to the headquarters
of the Federal Bureau of Investigation near the White House. There,
in separate offices, they had hammered out their reports with
furious concentration, both committed to getting the paper work
done so they could just go home.

     The very pretty woman, Special Agent Dana Scully, kept
twisting in her chair as she typed, thoroughly uncomfortable. In
her warm airless cubical near the chief medical examiner's office,
the hives were breaking out again under her pantyhose.

Mulder swore and wished his basement hole of an office had a
window that opened. About nine a pert young secretary poked her
head in. "Oooh," she whistled, waving a packet of interoffice mail
in front of her face, "what died in here?"

"Polecat," Mulder growled and kept typing.

"Well, whatever it is or was, throw it out. And Skinner wants
to see you in his office. Agent Scully, too."

He saved his file with a solid thump which insulted the fine
electronics in his keyboard and stood up reaching for his coat.
"For your information Agent Scully isn't here," he snapped. "She
isn't always here. She has her own desk with her name on it on the
second floor."

"Well, excuuuuse, me!" the woman said, her eyes rolling as she
made a hasty retreat. Agent Fox Mulder in a snit was not to be
tampered with.

Dana hissed an abrupt "Hello" when she picked up the phone at
her own desk and swore under her breath when she heard the summons
to appear immediately at the Assistant Director's office.
Glowering, she started down but decided on second thought to make
a detour by way of the ladies room to cover the worst of the red
blotches which she knew were now breaking out on her face.

When Dana entered murmuring her apologies, Mulder was already
in Skinner's office sitting slumped down in a chair as far from the
Assistant Director's desk as possible. With deliberation, she took
a chair on the opposite side of the room from her partner. What
this meant was that it was impossible for Skinner to look at both
of them at the same time. The distinguished, ex-military man looked
from Mulder's glum face to Scully's chilly gaze and back again,
saying nothing, but obviously confused over the seating
arrangements. He knew, however, that there were times when it was
best to say nothing at all.

"Agent Scully..." he began and then had to change to look at
his second agent on the far side of the room. "Agent Mulder. I've
heard that your last assignment was not a particularly pleasant
one..." Distracted, Skinner paused and sniffed in Mulder's
direction. "Agent Mulder, what is that smell?"

"Skunk," Mulder admitted reluctantly glaring in Scully's
direction, "which Agent Scully flushed out of the woods during one
of her endless nocturnal excursions to commune with nature."

"Uh huh," Skinner began then noticed Scully was scratching at
her leg. "Agent Scully, is there a problem?"

Dana snatched back a guilty hand, her face coloring so that
the blotches she had attempted to cover now showed up brilliantly.
"Allergic reaction, sir. Agent Mulder," she said accusingly,
"pitched my tent over a nest of some new species of voracious green
bugs."

Skinner took a deep breath and stared at the floor for a long
minute before looking up. "Your case was evidently even worse than
reported. I'm sorry. No one expected the working conditions would
be so difficult. Well, we can't pick the plums every time, and you
did as well as anyone could under the circumstances. The Department
of Immigration is in your debt." He put his hands in his trouser
pockets. "Now comes the bad news. The training office informs me
that your rotation has come around."

Groans from both sides of the room.

"When? Where," Dana asked dreading the answers and scratching
her arm idly.

"What? Who?" Mulder added sourly. The fact that this was not
one of Mulder's better attempts at humor spoke to the kind of mood
he was in.

Under the best of circumstances, the days Agents Scully and
Mulder were assigned to participate in the instructor exchange
program rated right up there with annual performance reviews and
preparation of the quarterly budget. It was not that it was so
difficult to lecture to the mixed group of FBI and CIA trainees, as
well as military and civilian cryptographic specialists from the
Department of Defense's National Security Agency. It was just that
the timing was always so inconvenient. Upper management for these
agencies, however, felt fervently that the program would eventually
prove invaluable in improving cooperation. Therefore, every four
months Mulder and Scully would dutifully, but reluctantly, drop
their investigations of ax murderers and flesh-eating pink ooze to
travel to some out-of-the-way location in the Washington area to
speak encouragingly about the rewards of working for the FBI. It
helped only slightly that the roomful of shiny-faced college
graduates, lower rank military, and white color professionals were
no more sure of why they were there than the instructors.

"In reverse order," Skinner was explaining. "'Who' is both of
you. Since you usually work together, it makes more sense for the
training office to schedule you together so you will both be
inconvenienced at the same time. 'What' for you, Agent Scully, is
your ever popular introductory lecture on maintaining the integrity
of the crime scene."

Dana sighed with relief. She could do that standing on her
head so preparation time would be minimal. She realized Skinner was
watching her try to scratch her thigh through the skirt of her suit
and stopped.

"For you, Agent Mulder, you have been asked again to entertain
a group of new CIA inductees on the elementary principles of
behavioral psychology. However, the training coordinator asks that
you leave out the goriest of the gory details. Two ex-marines lost
their lunch last time. Bad for morale."

Mulder nodded similarly relieved. He could recite that one in
his sleep and usually did which was why it tended to sound more
like someone's great-uncle telling ghost stories than anything
else.

"'Where'," Skinner continued walking into the middle of the
room equally distant from both of them, "is the NSA training
facility near Baltimore Washington International Airport. 'When',"
he started and paused. "'When' is the reason I called you in here.
No one bothered to inform the training office that your last
assignment had been extended. And, I am certain you have not had
time to check your e-mail to find out that, if you leave
immediately, you might just make it by," he looked at his watch,
"eleven o'clock which is when your lectures are scheduled."

Exclamations of protest in both baritone and alto hit the
Assistant Director from both sides. He grimaced and raised his
hands as if warding off a physical assault. "Enough. I'm sorry, but
there is no one available who can stand in for you today.
Therefore, I suggest you collect your materials and depart. You can
check out a car from the motor pool."

Of the two, Mulder stood first and stormed toward the door.
"Ah, Agent Mulder," the Assistant Director began which halted him.
"Since you won't have time for a shower, I suggest that you sit as
far from your students as possible."

Mulder scowled back just in time to see an evil grin from
Scully as she rose. Skinner had turned to her. "And, Agent Scully,
try not to scratch in front of the military."

It was Mulder's turn to cast a vindictive leer.

Skinner noticed the by play and scowled. "I don't know what's
going on, but I expect both of you to act, as usual, in a
professional manner and be exemplary representatives of the Bureau.
Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," they said together and once in the corridor
outside the office took off in opposite directions.

Since neither wanted to consider riding with the other and
both were as stubborn as mules, neither took the car from the
Bureau motor pool. Dana borrowed a friend's Toyota and Mulder
rented the last one off the lot of the rental agency located near
the New Carollton subway station. This explained how they ended up
arriving at the Annex in separate vehicles. As they walked toward
the grey building, they could hear the planes taking off from BWI
airport. Inside, they showed their Bureau identification and, this
being, more or less, the civilian arm of the Department of Defense,
checked their weapons. Pocketing their claim checks and snapping on
visitor identification badges in addition to their FBI picture IDs,
they presented themselves at their respective classrooms with five
minutes to spare. Sufficient time, therefore, to flip the slides
for their canned talks into the projector carrousels before the
students shambled in as excited at having been drug away from what
they felt was their 'real' work as their instructors.

As always, Dana found that, once she got started, she enjoyed
herself. She liked presenting this material to groups of fledgling
NSAers'. Some of these people would be doing field work in foreign
countries operating within their own specialties which usually
dealt with communications. While they did not happen upon crime
scenes as part of their normal activities, in some counties their
normal activities could be construed as 'being' criminal activities
and, therefore, they had best learn to cover their tracks.

Mulder found a window that opened and perched himself on the
sill with the projector advancer in his hand. The cold kept him
awake so he would not sleep through the presentation, but he had to
avert his eyes frequently in order not to see that the women in the
front row were shivering in the draft of his open window. Better to
let them shiver, he thought, than subject them to the fine woodsy
scent he had returned to Washington wearing.

Upon leaving their classrooms, the two partners made cautious
eye contact. Mulder had to admit that he was in better mood and
that Scully looked a little pitiful with her blotched face. She
tentatively asked him, "Go okay?"

"Fine, yours?"

     "Piece of cake."

     Something may have come from this cautious beginning at
reconciliation; however, a young marine picked that moment to run
up to them as they stood in the hallway.

     "You're the FBI people, Special Agents Mulder and Scully?"
Receiving two affirmative nods he proceeded to push a scrap of
paper into Dana's hand. "Message from Assistant Director Skinner.
There's some undercover narcotics agents working the airport and
they've cornered something they want the FBI to take a look at
right away. Your supervisor thinks that while you're here - "

Mulder rolled his eyes. He was tired of being persona non
grata and had looked forward to spending the rest of the day in the
shower or the pool at the YMCA or maybe some of both. Scully was
looking up at him. "'Cornered' does not sound good," she commented
when she had gotten his attention.

"And narcotics agents usually mean trouble," Mulder moaned,
"especially undercover ones."

They walked quickly to the security booth and pulled out their
claim checks for their weapons. The two they were handed were
large, black, heavy and totally unfamiliar. "Excuse me," Dana
called to the young Army lieutenant in the security cage, "but
these aren't ours."

The young woman came forward and checked the tags and the
claim checks again. "Says they are."

"But they aren't ours," Mulder insisted with exaggerated
distinctness, "and we have to go to work." He flashed his Bureau
ID. "And where we're going there may be one or two unfriendly
people present with guns of their own. We'd really like to have
ours back."

The lieutenant gave a bureaucratic shrug. "Tags say they are
yours. If you want to file a complaint, you'll have to do that with
the Commander and he's at lunch. Be back at one o'clock." At that
the woman turned away leaving the two agents leaning against the
counter.

"This situation," Dana said, "is ridiculous."

Mulder looked at the thing, checked the clip and finally put
it into the holster under his arm. It felt too big there, and too
heavy. Then he handed the other to Scully, butt first, and started
out the door towards the parking lot.

"Wait," Dana called, long habit requiring her to automatically
slip the mate to his into her holster before even considering
entering a public area. "There has to be something illegal about
this. Mulder, they aren't ours."

Mulder walked quickly now that he had made his decision to
act. "The woman says they 'are' ours. Anyway, do we have a choice?
We've got narcs waiting for us and I for one don't want to hang
around waiting for some bureaucrat to finish his two martini
lunch."

Dana trotted after him, irritated that his reckless attitude
was negating the improved mood she had had coming out of her class.
In the parking lot they looked right and then left at their cars.
As Mulder slipped into the little rental car, Dana swore seeing
that someone had blocked in her friend's Toyota. She had no choice,
therefore, but to slide into the passenger side next to Mulder.

She looked at the directions on the slip of paper as Mulder
flattened the gas petal and squealed out of the parking lot. "We
won't provide a very effective response if we're dead," she
complained, "not to mention we'll lose the element of surprise."

Mulder's mouth twitched as if he was going to say something
besides what he said which was "Just read the directions."

The directions led them to an abandoned warehouse far on the
edge of the airport grounds. There were three cars parked outside.
Mulder did slow the car down to a quiet crawl when they were within
earshot of anyone in the building, but, when no one came out to
meet them, he drove past and finally pulled around to the rear.
Still no one came out to meet them. The undercover officers who
called should have been on watch. Mulder's senses sharpened. He
looked over to Scully as they got out of the car and from long
association both drew their guns and advanced towards the building
with caution.

A small door on the side of the old warehouse stood ajar. They
paused outside for a moment, unfamiliar weapons raised,
synchronizing their assault.

Dana whispered, "Try not to trip over your big feet this time,
okay?" Her allusion was to his stumbling over a mango root early on
in their recent assignment from hell. He had fallen into six feet
of a particularly nasty section of swamp, sinking most of their
first aid supplies and some of the food.

"Keep your pretty head down or someone might shoot it off,"
Mulder retorted in a low voice. Having got their mutual licks in,
they settled down to business.

Simultaneously, they took deep, silent, cleansing breaths
indicating readiness. They had done this so many times they no
longer needed eye contact. They could feel each other breathing.
Scully opened the door with her foot and came in low turned to the
right; Mulder high, turned left. Side to side, nearly back to back.
"FBI," Mulder shouted his voice ringing and echoing off the
corrugated roof. There was no answering call friendly or otherwise.

Silence.

"Sure you got the directions right?" he whispered.

Dana stepped on his foot. Not hard enough to trip him, not
hard enough to endanger them, but hard enough to tell him exactly
how she felt about his insinuation.

     They proceeded carefully into the dim warehouse, moving down
the center aisle which was half full of old wooden boxes and
rusting metal drums. At each intersection they stopped, listened
and carefully crossed.

     At the third intersection Mulder thought he saw a movement to
his right. He turned, aimed and, seeing a gun being raised in his
direction, shot. It should have been a good shot. Calculated,
controlled and well-aimed, only the borrowed gun did not fire. At
his back he heard Scully's click as well. A hollow, impotent sound.
Mulder fired again with no improvement on the outcome. They heard
cold laughter from both their right and left. In less than three
seconds they were surrounded. Three big men, like dock workers who
lifted weights for fun, appeared from the deep shadows behind large
oil drums.

     The largest, slowest one, a man with the placid face of an
sheep, grabbed Scully and, though she had training in hand to hand
combat, she was no match for this giant who was taller than Mulder
and four times her weight.

     Mulder was encouraged to hear a few grunts when some of his
blows ran home, but all it got him was a rougher and infinitely
more painful jerk when his arms were pulled behind his back. Mulder
liked to think he could hold his own, better than his own, in a
fight with those of his weight but the two oxen who held him could
have been stone for all that he could move them.

The one with the gun Mulder had first seen walked now towards
the group smiling. "My, my, what have we here?" He took their ID.
"FBI? And we thought we'd have to leave empty-handed. Hey, boys,
look. Hostages."

Dana hung her head thinking of the futility of it all.
Hostages. Wonderful, Dana thought. This has been a wonderful day.

Mulder's temper was up and he still struggled but not with
much success.

"What do we do?" the largest man asked the leader.

The leader stared at the ceiling. "Do what we came here to do,
Harry, only in a round about way. We'll have to trade for what we
want. Let's pack 'em up and take 'em home."

Harry, who had one huge arm wrapped around Dana's waist
clasping her to him and effectively trapping her arms, started
dragging her to the end of the aisle. "Guess we'd be safest takin'
'em out in the container we prepared for the stash that we haven't
got. But it's not very big." The big man called back to the leader.
"I think we'll only have room for one. Which one do we take?"

"I vote for miss pretty FBI there," the one who was pushing
Mulder ahead of him called out happily, his eyes on Dana.

The second man who had subdued Mulder, a tall and emaciated
man, walked with a heavy hand on Mulder's shoulder as a warning
against any possible escape attempt. "They both look good to me,"
he laughed with an exaggerated lisp. At that Mulder's head came up
like a shot and, since she was being dragged backwards, Dana could
see that his hazel eyes blazed. He tried to flick the man's hand
away from his shoulder, but received only a sinuous caress on his
cheek and a laugh in reply.

Whoops, Dana thought. Times they were a changing, Mulder.

"We'll take 'em both," the leader said casually. "Twice the
buying power, don't you know."

When they reached the end of the aisle, they were roughly
gagged and their hands and feet tied. Looking down both were
appalled to see a heavy wooden crate lying empty. Its top, made out
of the same thick boards, lay propped against some shelving. The
box was small, barely four feet long, three feet wide and a little
over two feet high.

"Comfy, cozy, hey kiddies?" the leader said lightly. "Fold 'em
up, Leo." Mulder's eyes widened as did Dana's. The box would have
been a snug fit for one prisoner but for two it would be
impossible. Leo and the tall skinny man dropped Mulder in first,
none too gently. It was a difficult task just to fold his long
legs. Harry pushed Dana toward the box. She looked in and
hesitated. Mulder was curled up, his neck bent, his knees pushed
almost up to his chin. He looked angry and already uncomfortable.

"What's wrong girl?" the leader asked leering. "If you don't
want to join your boyfriend, you can stay out here with us." At
that the men laughed and Dana sat down on the edge of the box and
tried to figure out how she was ever going to fit discretely. After
more than eight months working closely with Mulder, always being so
careful not to cross that invisible line, the situation she was
being forced into was frighteningly intimate. Impatient with the
delay, Harry finally picked Dana up and dumped her. Her shoulder
landed on Mulder's head, that much she knew. She did not have time
to identify the other points where their bodies made contact before
someone dropped the wooden cover in place and forced her head down
onto his ribs.

Suddenly it was darker and the space alarmingly confining.
Instinctively, Dana pushed upwards with her shoulders but there was
no give. One of the big men must have put a knee on the splintery
wood. Then they started hammering the cover into place. That seemed
to go on forever while Dana's head rattled up against the lid with
every stroke.

Scarcely able to move, Mulder lay with the unpleasant image of
nails being driven into his coffin. Between the gag, Scully's lying
on his head and rib cage and having his diaphragm collapsed in upon
itself by the severe angle of his position, he could hardly
breathe. With the lid in place there was not only little light but
less air.

The sound of a motor roared into life close by their ears and
the box vibrated violently as a fork lift scooped up their prison
in its claw. The operator must have been inexperienced for Dana
felt a moment of vertigo as the box was swept up with a start and
held higher than should have been necessary. The box swayed
frighteningly on the fork lift's arm as it was transported. Within
thirty seconds, by the increase in light and slight puffs of fresh
air which filtered in from the cracks between the boards, they
could tell that the box had been transported outside. Dana's head
hit painfully on the lid as it was dropped none too gently onto
something hollow and metal, probably the bed of a pickup. The box
bounced. Dana heard Mulder underneath her grunt painfully as she
came down hard and forced out the little reserve air he had in his
lungs.

Almost immediately, the truck started up. Not with a
suspicious squeal, unfortunately, but almost sedately.

The ride was rough, the road being mostly gravel, cracked
asphalt and potholes. To add to their discomfort the shocks on the
truck were old. Dust from the road filtered through the cracks and
made them cough. Only when the truck finally entered onto what must
have been a highway, probably the Baltimore-Washington Parkway,
could they finally think about something besides their discomfort.

Mulder hoped that the state road crews would be doing work on
the BW Parkway because they almost always were when it was not rush
hour. If they got caught in a traffic jam, if they could yell or
make some kind of a sound maybe they could attract the attention of
one of the members of the road crew. If not them then maybe someone
in the lines of cars that would back up around the roadwork would
hear their shouts. They would be driving slowly enough.
Washingtonians loved to rubberneck around distractions along the
road. It didn't make sense considering that it only made their
terrible traffic worse but they did.

If they could remove their gags to shout, if someone heard and
if that someone called the police. Then maybe their rescue would
not be that far away. A lot of 'if's' there.

As their journey bumped along, however, there was no slowing.
A fine time, Mulder grumbled, for the B/W Parkway to actually be
finished. They had probably moved to the critical Wilson Bridge
which would disrupt everyone's commute in the Greater Washington
area but that of this particular pickup.

End of chapter 1 of 3REVELATIONS 2: THE BOX (2/3)
by Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)
Original 3/95; revised 3/2000

For disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 2

Dana was riding with her head on Mulder's chest as he lay
curled on his side. She tried bracing herself against the jostling
and bumping of the ride so that she would not lean too heavily on
her partner but with her wrists and ankles tied, she wasn't having
much success. Even when she was able to keep even half her weight
from impacting with his ribs, he still grunted with each
significant lurch. During one bounce her eye caught a flash of
white as a shaft of sunlight flickered in for a moment between the
boards. It was a piece of rope. A piece of the rope used to tie
Mulder's hands. It was time to start thinking about improving their
situation.

Immediately thereafter, Mulder felt Scully nuzzling him near
his back.

Fine time for you to start getting playful, Mulder thought,
but felt fortunate that at least this time the gag prevented him
from saying what he was thinking out loud and getting him into even
more trouble with Scully. In truth, he had never seriously
considered playfulness as an explanation for his partner's actions.
Agent Scully would have a more constructive objective. It was just
that the line was too good to pass up. He would have to save it for
a time when they were both in a better mood. Unfortunately, Agent
Mulder could not think of when such a conjunction of circumstances
might be likely to occur again any time in the near future.

With her own mouth gagged, Dana had to reject for the moment
being able to work on the ropes binding Mulder's hands with her
teeth. If she could get the back of her head down by his hands,
however, perhaps he could remedy that. With much squirming and
pushing with her tied feet against the sides of the box, she
squeezed onto her back into the small space between his bent legs
and the roof. With her back bowed also into a 'C' she let her head
down near the small of his back. Early on he had realized what she
was trying to do and had done his best to give her as much room as
he could.

With her head and shoulders lower than any other part of her
body, Dana soon felt the blood pounding in her ears and the sway of
the truck made her dizzy. Finally, after a few subtle and discrete
adjustments in positioning, she felt his long fingers entwining
themselves in her hair feeling for where the cloth was knotted at
the base of her neck. As his hands were still tied, his movements
were severely restricted, but after ten minutes of so she could
feel the tightness at the corners of her mouth loosen. In another
few seconds she felt the cloth go slack completely. Feeling as if
her head were ready to explode, Dana rolled shakily off Mulder to
lie on her back beside him. She spit out the gag and took in a deep
breath of the rank air. She lay for more than a minute waiting for
the lights to cease sparkling around her eyes. The roll of the box
on the truck and the smell of skunk on his hair also made her head
and stomach reel.

She worked her aching jaw. "I think I'm going to be sick," she
groaned.

Beside her Mulder grunted out three unintelligible syllables
which she interpreted as meaning, "Don't you dare."

She smiled weakly and pushed herself around to her knees and
went back to her original position with her head on Mulder's ribs.
Then she worked on reaching the knot on the ropes binding his
wrists.

Amazingly, the knot was not very difficult to loosen even with
her teeth although she lost it once when the truck, which had
momentarily slowed in traffic, suddenly shot forward again with the
lurch. Then she had to reposition herself all over again. With
every bump her head hit the side of the box. Now she had a headache
to add to the dizziness and nausea. After the knot was untied, the
problem was getting her head and shoulder out of the way so that
Mulder could raise his arms but his right elbow kept hitting her in
the head and his left arm which he had been laying on was so
insensible he could not move it at all. One handed he frantically
loosened his own gag. She heard him spit out the cloth and gasp.
She had not realized how little air he had been getting until she
heard him gulping air in quick short pants.

"Careful," she warned him with her physician's voice, "or
you'll hyperventilate. Then you'll faint and leave me with my hands
still tied."

"There are some men who would take that as a come on," he
wheezed but took her advice and struggled to regulate his breathing
to something somewhat slower and deeper. Dana, who had become
accustomed to his brand of humor, did not even consider the comment
worthy of a reply. After all, he had not meant it seriously, though
considering his choice in adult entertainment, maybe he did.

After a minute or so, he snaked his arm around to her back and
released the bindings on her hands. Being by far the more flexible,
Dana reached down and untied their feet. Even within the close,
dark confines of the box, their comfort improved markedly once
their arms and legs were free. Certainly their choice of positions
was infinitely improved, but they were a long way from being free.

"Mulder," Dana began after they had lain quietly for a few
minutes just letting their muscles and joints relax. "We could be
in real trouble this time. We could die. You know the Bureau does
not pay ransom. They'll come in shooting first."

"Unfortunately, these guys probably don't know that," Mulder
grumbled. Balanced precariously on one side of his tail bone, he
was attempting to shake some life into his left arm. "As far as
shooting goes, I could twist the neck off the lieutenant who
mislaid our guns. You know, I checked the clip."

"So did I," she said. "And consider the coincidences. The call
to come to the warehouse you must admit was pretty irregular. The
mixup with the weapons. And where were those undercover officers?"

     A big semi must have gone by at that moment because they could
feel the change in air pressure and the truck wavered in its wake.
The dust made them choke.

     "Do you know what I think, Scully?" Mulder coughed even as he
grimaced against the feeling of blood returning to his left arm.

     "That we were set up?"

"Got it in one."

"By whom?"

"Who had access to our guns? Who delivered what was probably
a phoney message from Skinner?"

"You mean the military?" Dana exclaimed, derisively. "Mulder,
you ARE paranoid. The military, which has a budget of a couple of
trillion dollars is going to have Agents Mulder and Scully
kidnapped by a bunch of incompetent thieves? Yeah, right."

"Shows you just how much they think we're worth, doesn't it,"
he said, hitting the side of the box with as much force as six
inches of leverage allowed.

"Something must have upset them. Who'd you piss off this time,
Mulder," Dana grumbled with more bitterness than she had intended.
"What did you do? Sleep with some general's daughter?"

At that moment the truck leaped an extra deep pothole, the box
shifted dangerously on the bed of the truck, Mulder lost his
balance and Dana flew up hit the roof of the box. When she came
down hard, Mulder grunted in surprise and in pain.

"S-Scully," a muffled and none-too-pleasant voice drifting up
from underneath her asked, "move your fat ass. You're on my head."

"Mulder, you're a pig. If you're so uncomfortable, why don't
you get on top for a while? I'm tired of having my head
ricochetting against the roof every time we hit a rut."

Biting his lip to keep from saying what had come unbidden into
his mind, Mulder heaved himself up to give his partner room. With
a few moves she had not known she was capable of, Dana managed to
slip down. The trouble was she found that the splintery boards on
the bottom of the box far less comfortable than Mulder's ribs and
hip bones. Fortunately or unfortunately -- depending upon your mood
and your sensitivity to the scent of skunk -- the only place Mulder
could find to lay his head was on her chest. Dana found that skunk
not withstanding, she rather liked having it there but she did not
dare say so. The angry words had come out again and they lay curled
together is stony silence for a long time.

     Having nothing else to do, Mulder tried to sleep. Now that he
was free of the real agony of having his arms bound behind his
back, the monotonous rocking of the box should have been relaxing
except that his legs continued to ache and he could not find a
position that gave him any relief. He envied Scully's ability to
straighten her knees. He found himself thinking about the last time
he had been this physically uncomfortable which had been not so
very long before: Lying inside a cold, wet sleeping bag inside a
tiny tent alone for two days while it rained incessantly. He
wondered what he could have done differently to have prevented that
case from becoming such a complete disaster. He was not happy about
what it had done to his relationship with Scully. She was not only
his partner, she was his friend. He didn't want to lose either.

     The assignment had started mildly enough. A park ranger on an
old fashioned 'swamp buggy' had let them and their back packing
equipment off in one of the most uninhabited areas of the
Everglades. There had been reports of some strange sighting. Beings
that come and went like magic. The Seminoles, who lived near the
edge of the park, had had farm animals, as well as dogs and cats,
disappear in large numbers. Mulder and Scully had been sent in to
have a look. After too many days of slugging through the swamp,
being eaten alive by mosquitos and starved when the food ran out,
they got their answer. The thefts and other unusual happenings were
being caused by two rival group of Haitian and Cuban boat people
who had struck out for Miami and gotten lucky -- lucky in that they
had landed before either capsizing or being picked up by the Coast
Guard. The unlucky part was that they had landed in the Everglades.
After going a little wild from eating plants and animals sane
people were never intended to eat, they had helped themselves to
the domesticated animals of their Seminole neighbors.

     It should have been a simple case but the agents had made
mistakes, Mulder admitted, as he floated his thoughts above the
discomfort of his body. Not taking the time to establish good
relations with the tribal elders had been personally his biggest
blunder and had cost them days of senseless wandering. To make the
situation worse, a tropical storm suddenly blew over the area and
decided to stall and escalate to hurricane strength. Their
scheduled pickup did not get in to retrieve them for an additional
four days. It was during this delay that Scully had run into the
bugs and the skunk had run into the Mulder. And it had all gone
downhill from there.

Mulder jerked awake. He realized suddenly that he had fallen
asleep. Scully was tapping him on the top of the head with the
knuckles of her right hand. "Sorry," she said. "Got a cramp. Time
for the Chinese fire drill. Anyway, I could use a nap."
Unfortunately, as comfortable as both always felt after trying a
new position, it always become just as uncomfortable as all the
others within five minutes. With much grunting and groaning, for
Mulder found he had stiffened considerably during his brief sleep,
they switched places and Dana found herself riding with her head
pillowed on his stomach.

With her head comfortably cushioned, Dana did try to sleep.
Their ride on the truck seemed to go on forever. It must have been
no more than one o'clock when they had entered the warehouse. Now
it would have to be at least four. A grumbling from Mulder's belly
reminded her that neither had had lunch, nor breakfast either
unless one considered breakfast a stale bagel and cream cheese on
the flight from Miami at five in the morning.

Trying to ignore how uncomfortable and bored she was, Dana let
her mind drift but it kept fanaticizing about how making mad,
passionate love to Mulder might be an entertaining distraction.
People made love in stranger places. But real people, Dana, she
repeated to herself, not FBI agents. Real people only had to get up
in the morning and look at each other over a newspaper and coffee.
Most of the time if someone got mad, their mate might get a cup of
cold coffee flung in their face, but that was it. She and Mulder
faced each other almost daily with loaded guns in their hands.
Their very lives depended on the other being cool, logical and in
control. A lover's quarrel could lead to hesitation or a mistake in
judgement and someone might end up very dead. If she ever needed a
reminder of why she and Mulder could never afford to become an item
she had only to remember the last few days.

Still, she thought, feeling the warmth of his body and the
steady beat of his heart in her ear, it was a shame.

After their next position change, Mulder lay on his side. His
knees pulled up to his chin, he vainly tried to gets the kinks out
of his neck which had been held at an unnatural angle for most of
the trip.

"How are you doing," Dana asked more gently than she had said
anything to him for days. There had been silence between them for
so long her voice sounded odd to them both.

He half-opened two pain filled eyes but, being turned in the
opposite direction, she could not have seen. In any case, there
really wasn't much light. "I can't feel my legs," he said with a
tight voice. She tried moving into as small a ball as possible to
give him a few extra inches to stretch. This helped but he knew the
improvement would be short lived for a new cramp would only develop
somewhere else.

"Scully," Mulder said seriously, "we have to make plans. If
they do not stop soon, it's not likely that we'll be able to move
when they do finally let us out, much less defend ourselves. Our
only option, therefore, is to escape now. I'm going to try again to
kick out the side of the box or push up the top. I'll need every
inch you can give me."

     With Scully huddled as small as she could in the corner,
Mulder did his best but his attempts were unsuccessful. After ten
minutes he was exhausted, sweaty and racked with cramps in his
thighs and lower back and the box was as sound as ever.

     He called a halt. "Sorry," he gasped, for the air was ripe and
thin. "I just can't get any leverage."

     "Let me try," she offered. "I have more room to maneuver." But
though Dana could definitely deliver a more determined kick, she
was no match for half inch thick boards.

     "Even if we had been able to break through," she rationalized,
"we're traveling at sixty miles per hour."

They settled back into one of their two most favorite
positions, he with his head on her chest. Useless as the attempt
had been, the exercise seemed to have increased his blood
circulation, for Mulder felt more comfortable than he had in hours.
But then maybe his muscles were just getting numb or maybe he just
fit between his partner's curves better this time.

She was a small woman, only five foot two and not bone-thin.
In other words, soft in all the right places and classically
beautiful. Add to that intelligent, courageous and endearing. She
was also insufferable, stubborn, and close-minded. Mulder wondered
if she knew how capable she was of driving a man insane or if it
was only him who she drove insane? She had also risked her own
life, times over, to save his -- even taken a bullet six months
before -- but he could also remember all the times he had come to
her excited about some truly astounding event, some completely
alien or paranormal phenomena that had dropped wondrously into the
world, and her response had always been to analyze it to death. She
would take all the fun out of it. If once and a while, just once in
a while, she could loosen up and show a little enthusiasm. He
sighed. It helped that much of her coolness was a game between
them, but how much? All he knew for certain was that there were
times when he got very weary of the game.

"Scully," he said, staring at the wooden lid of the box three
inches from his nose. "Truce?"

He could not see that her face softened and that she smiled
her slow, lovely smile. "Truce," she agreed.

He snuggled just a little to show he was pleased. "I
apologize. You don't have a fat ass. You actually have a very nice
ass."

"Thanks, Mulder," her voice came from above him, "so do you,
though you can still be a pig at times." Her voice was gently
playful.

"And you can be a bit of a killjoy yourself," he returned not
unkindly but Dana frowned a little, an expression he could not see.

That hurt, Dana thought. Even if he had intended it as a joke
the idea had to have some basis. Hell, Mulder, I'm suppose to be
objective. That's my job. How like a little boy he could be rushing
up to show her some new toy. Did he think she enjoyed playing the
part of the wiser and snotty older sister whose job in life was to
cut him down? -- No, silly, it's not a unicorn. It's just some poor
goat which has been tortured by grafting a horn to its forehead.

"It was my fault," Dana admitted, doing her bit to make peace.
"The problems we had with the Seminole elders... I should have
respected their customs against women attending their council
meetings. We lost their cooperation. We could have been home within
days if we'd had their help."

Mulder shook his head a little. "We both blew it. I should
have been more conciliatory. Then I pushed on when we should have
rested. We got sloppy."

     To that she agreed. Those kinds of mistakes could be lethal.
They had been lucky, but then maybe they only remembered the case
as being so awful because there had been nothing stimulating to
think about. For much of the time it had been just physically
unpleasant and boring. Like now.

     Dana felt an undeniable need to scratch her stomach, a
movement which he had to notice because her stomach was against his
back.

     "Sorry about the bugs," he offered. "I was tired. I was angry
at myself. I wasn't thinking."

"Not your fault," she said. "Should have set up my own tent."
He had tried to raise up to give her a least a modicum of privacy
to scratch her itch. His attempt at courtesy, in light of their
impossible situation, made her eyes mist over. Then the mood was
broken as the proximity of his hair and the skunk scent inches from
her face made her sneeze.

"Yeah," he added sheepishly. "And I'm sorry about this damned
smell. I know you didn't do it on purpose."

Dana said nothing and was glad he could not see her face just
then. If the truth be known -- and she would have to wait until she
could get a good running start before she told him, preferably from
another state -- she had done it on purpose. Off in the swamp grass
relieving herself in the middle of the night, she had seen the
skunk, waddling about, minding its own business and had chased the
poor thing into Mulder's tent with a few well-thrown stones. She
had just been so angry about those green bugs, the hives and the
fact that he's sunk their medical supplies some of which would have
relieved her agony. She just had never realized how tired she could
get of the smell of skunk.

Her guilty conscience made her want to make some kind of
concession. "Hey, Mulder, maybe we could try one tent next time?"
She playfully wrapped her finger around a lock of his hair. "It
gets lonely, especially after forth-eight hours of rain. And if we
can manage to get through this experience without ripping each
other's clothes off, we could probably manage to restrain ourselves
under more normal circumstances."

She could feel the muscles in his face move. He was smiling.
"There's no room to rip anyone's clothes off," he commented dryly.

"Details," she responded. "And, you know, you really don't
smell so bad. Once you get use to it."

"Thanks," he said with mock appreciation, "especially
considering that if they leave us in here much longer we're going
to smell a lot worse."

There was a silence while both did their best not to consider
the state of their bladders. At least the truck seemed to have
found a newly surfaced stretch of road. The droning, monotonous
movement had become almost soothing.

"Remember, the last time we were this close?" Mulder asked.
"Amos's cellar and later in the barn?" His voice taken on a wistful
quality. "You have to admit, this is better than that."

"You mean because you don't have a bump on your head the size
of a billiard ball and I don't have a hole in my side? Yes, I'd say
it's better than that."

"I meant that at least it's not cold." Which was true. The
temperature would actually have been stifling if the velocity they
were traveling did not force a least a little cool, fresh air in
through the cracks between the boards.

"We made it through then," she reminded him.

"Yes, we did. Thanks to you."

"Thanks to us both." There was a pause but a pause with much
hovering in the air between them. "I know we were thinking of
tossing in the towel this morning, but we were both in a pretty
terrible mood. You still want to be partners?" she asked with a
surprising degree of timidity.

"Haven't we been through this before?"

"At least once a month. Besides, it doesn't hurt to ask."

"To assume makes an ASS of U and ..."

"Yes, Mulder. I know the axiom. Do you?"

"Who else would put up with me."

"Who else would put up with 'us'," she corrected.

She could feel the smile again. Then he reached up and with
great gentleness removed her hand from his hair and put it aside.
"At least for now, don't tease," he said. "It's hard enough."

Is it? she wished she could ask, but said gently instead,
"When I tease, Fox Mulder, you'll know it."

"Promise?"

Before any promises could be made, the truck began to slow
down it was time for the quick decisions to be made. The primary
one being whoever was first out of the box had to be the one most
able to initiate some kind of an offense. Under normal
circumstances, being stronger, Mulder would have assumed this duty,
which was also more hazardous, but in this instance he was more
affected by their cramped conditions being by far the taller. After
much heaving and thrashing about Dana managed squirm on top again.
As the truck came to a halt they lay quietly, listened and waited.

They heard an large jet taking off which prompted a meaningful
look between them. Then the sound of a motor started close by.
Another fork lift.

"Airport?" Mulder whispered. "And the same forklift? We've
been going in circles!"

"The same forklift? How do you know it's the same forklift?"
Dana asked in a husky stage whisper. "Is that a man thing? And
who's to say that it's not a different airport. Maybe Dulles."

Diplomatically, Mulder chose to keep silent.

Dana braced herself against the top and bottom of the box in
a struggle to keep down her vertigo. The ride perched on the end of
a forklift was longer this time. The sunlight leaking between the
boards of the old box had given them dim but adequate light during
their trip but suddenly that light dimmed further. They had
obviously been taken inside a darker place. After a minute or so
there was a bump as the tractor wheels went over a break in the
floor. Suddenly the light lessened significantly until Mulder could
barely see the silhouette of Scully's head against the wood as she
waited, tense with expectation. With a jarring thud, the box was
set down and the forklift retreated.

     Footsteps sounded close to the box and in a moment they felt
and heard a tool like a crowbar being forced under the lid. Dana
tensed but felt the time was not right. When the lid came open a
little further, when she knew one thrust upwards even from her
weakened condition would throw the lid open and hopefully surprise
the man with the crowbar, then she would act. Though she could not
see him, Dana felt Mulder place an supportive hand on her shoulder.

     But Dana never had a chance to make her move because whoever
had been working on loosening the lid of the box suddenly
disappeared. Instead they heard foot steps moving quickly away and
the sound of a heavy metal door being closed securely somewhere
close by. Dana let her head droop. Their one chance had come and
gone and she had missed it.

     The only encouraging note about this phase of their ordeal was
that the cover of the box had been loosened sufficiently that
between them, by pushing and prying, they were able to make the
nails sing and groan against the old wood. After a final effort
from both of them the cover fell back with a loud reverberating
crash. They were greeted by a wave of oily stale air and absolute
inky blackness.

End of Chapter 2 of 3REVELATIONS 2: THE BOX (3/3)
by Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)
Original 3/95; revised 3/2000

For disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 3

Mulder felt Scully sit with effort, stretch and finally lower
herself with a groan over the side of the box. With their captor
gone and the door to their prison obviously locked, there was no
longer any need for tiger-like grace and ferocity. With an odd
feeling that was at once exhilaration and loss, Mulder rolled over
onto his back in the now capacious box. The places along the right
side of his body that had been in contact with Scully's were still
warm but were cooling quickly. Slowly, he stretched out one cramped
leg. The painful pleasure of it made him gasp. From somewhere
outside the box near the floor but still close by he heard her
voice ask, "Are you going to live, Mulder?"

He extended the other leg and let the relief wash over him
like a cleansing fire. His muscles quivered. All of them. "I'll
never dance again."

He could sense her leaning with her elbows on the side of the
box looking down at him, though he could not see her any more than
she could see him. "Did you dance before?"

He winked but realized too late that she could not have seen
it. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Within two minutes, he was able to crawl out ungracefully to
stretch out his long body on a metal floor. He had time, so he knew
he had to take time. To move too quickly would risk a nasty cramp
or muscle strain and that neither of them could afford.

     This was one of the few situations Mulder could remember where
his partner's small size had been an advantage. Many of those times
were related to low hanging branches in dark forests. Then there
were the times when she grappled with perpetrators twice her size,
like Amos. She would win as often as not because they never took
her attacks seriously, in the beginning. And here she was -- after
what they had been through and she was already standing and moving
about though she had not ventured far. He could hear her quiet
footsteps and her soft breathing.

     "Mulder," she said from above him but nearby and there was an
odd note of humor in her voice, "Reassure me that I'm not blind.
Tell me it's dark in here."

     "Scully, it's dark in here," he told her. "Actually, it's not
just dark, it's REALLY dark in here." And there was a soft chuckle
in his voice. Yes, he remembered as she did when he had asked
something similar months before when they found themselves
prisoners in an equally black cellar. And the she felt a hand come
out of the blackness near the floor to press against her hand, but
whether to give comfort or ask for it she didn't know.

     Dana moved away then. She walked slowly, feeling the ground
with her feet to be certain it stayed firm and level and reaching
forward and to the sides with her arms outstretched. She was
searching for a wall. From the sound their voices made, which was
rather like conversing at the bottom of a well, Dana imagined a
small metal-walled room with a high ceiling. But at the moment she
would settle for a wall, a nice dry, solid wall. No weird stuff.
The alternative did not excite her.

     Suddenly, she felt a breath of wind on her neck and something
touched the back of her neck softly. She jumped and whirled
defensively forgetting her concern about moving about cautiously.

"Mulder!" she shouted as quietly as she could, "That better
have been you."

There was silence for several long heartbeats and Dana felt
every one. "Yes, it was me," a disembodied voice said out of the
blackness.

"Don't you EVER do that again!"

"I'm incorrigible. My first grade teacher said so." And he did
sound honestly contrite. "Honestly, I was just trying to find you."

Exasperated, Dana sighed loudly and turned her back on where
she thought, from the sound of his voice, Mulder was standing and
began looking for the wall again. At least he was standing. That
was an improvement.

"Found it!" she called out softly as her searching fingers
found rough metal. In this darkness and quiet it would have seemed
odd to make too much noise. As if you might awaken something. "It
curves." There was relief in her voice. The wall was dry and firm.
Metallic. No goo, no slime, no mushy stuff and nothing moved.

"Same here," Mulder called opposite her from about twenty five
feet away. "My guess is this may have been an old fuel storage
tank."

Great, Dana thought. She could just imagine mad scientists
opening valves, letting tons of fuel come gushing in over them,
crushing them, drowning them. It's just the dark, Dana told
herself. Mulder's suppose to be the one with the imagination.
Better get yours under control.

They explored and indeed the container did seem to be a large
metal tank. The floor and walls seemed all of a piece. They found
a thin seam which must have been where the wide door was set that
allowed maintenance people in and through which the fork lift had
driven. It was solid and there seemed to be no way to open it from
the inside. They went back to exploring their dark world. Dana
searched the tank wall from the ground up to about four feet and
Mulder searched as far as his long arms could reach. They were
looking for anything -- what they didn't know. Anything that could
allow them to escape. What they found was nothing.

Mulder had now stood the box on its narrow end and by
balancing on it he could reach another four and a half feet. Dana
spotted to keep him from falling and breaking his neck. Still
nothing. Not even a ceiling. Back on the ground, Mulder broke a
piece of wood from the lid after considerable effort and threw it
straight up. It struck a metal surface about twenty to twenty-five
feet from the floor.

"Stand on my shoulders," he suggested. Without hesitation Dana
took off her shoes and then he helped her up. With her hands
searching for any irregularity, Mulder moved slowly around the
circumference. When that also was unsuccessful they had only one
option left which was tricky and slow; he stood on the box on its
narrow end and helped Scully to stand on his shoulders from which
she searched the wall for breaks. This meant that each time they
were ready to search another section Dana had to dismount and the
box had to repositioned before he could boost her up again.

By the time they were a quarter of the way around, though
neither wasted their strength on idle chatter, Dana could tell that
they were both getting tired. Still Mulder's balance was good and
he adjusted his weight smoothly again and again to aid her.

This is trust, Dana thought. This is why we are good at what
we do. For she knew that if either lost their balance she could be
badly injured.

This search, unfortunately, was not any more successful than
the others. The curving metal walls of the tank had an irritating
sameness. Dana could tell from the hollow sound her voice made when
she spoke from atop Mulder's shoulders that she was near what
served as a ceiling but still she could not touch it.

Then a time came when his strength was not what it had been
and Mulder failed to hoist her high enough to reach his shoulders.
Her foot slipped and he was barely able to break her fall. Both
admitted now that it was time for a rest.

Mulder was no longer breathing as evenly as he had. Hers
sounded the same. "Couple more times," he said with a deep breath.
"Let's get halfway around."

She agreed. They tried it again and this time, as she reached
high above her head and to her right, her searching fingers found
empty air. They repositioned the box and tried again more to the
right, adrenaline pumping into their veins and giving them the
extra strength and alertness they needed.

"It's definitely an opening!" she called down. "About a foot
and a half on a side."

"Can you pull yourself up?" Mulder called gently so as not to
disturb her balance.

Dana rested her forehead against the rough metal of the wall.
It would be hard. She was tired and it was dangerous. The opening
might not be very deep. Once she pulled herself from Mulder's
shoulders, it was doubtful that her feet would be able to find them
again in the dark. He would not even be able to see her to break
her fall if it came to that.

As if sensing her hesitation, he said, "If it doesn't look
safe, don't do it. We'll find another way."

But there may be no other way, she thought, and the idea of
staying there waiting for that group of goons to come back was
totally unacceptable. "Help me down. I have an idea."

This he did. She hunted in the dark, found the broken lid of
the box and together they broke off a cross piece. She put the
block in the waist band of her skirt before he boosted her up once
more. Finding the opening once more, she threw the block of wood
into gap and listened carefully. From the sound the falling block
made, the opening seemed to go back far enough. Far enough to
define a space big enough for someone's Dana's size.

It was time.

"Now or never. Give me a boost," she said. She felt his strong
hands cradling the sole of her right foot. His hands were warm and
tickled a little. He rubbed the top of her arch encouraging her.
His trust gave her confidence. When he felt her balance was right
he lifted upward with a force that was both smooth and controlled.
Dana found herself propelled into the shaft. Not too fast. Just
right. For a moment she felt herself slip but brought up her knees
and halted her slide. She was in. If this passage went somewhere,
well and good. If it were a dead end, she could be here for a
while. She scooted forward a few feet and felt the walls fall away
around her even though there was no more light than before. She was
on a platform and then she felt the rungs of a ladder leading
downward.

Dana turned around, crawled back and leaned over looking into
the inky blackness. "I found a ladder!" she called softly but loud
enough for him to hear.

"As they say, Scully, way to go." came the answering response
from below.

"Mulder, are you all right?" She had heard the box and
probably Mulder fall after he had launched her up into the passage.
He'd probably lost his balance.

"No worse than usual. Get going!"

"Mulder, I don't like leaving you behind!"

"Scully, you can and you know you will. Remember the voracious
little green bugs and get out of here. Bring back the cavalry."

Of course he was right and she knew it. She had just wanted
him to know how disquieting she found the prospect of leaving him
behind in all that black alone, no matter how quickly she could
return with help.

Dana crawled back to the steps. On the platform she stood up
and began to descend. There was no change in the complete absence
of light but the air was fresher here and less oily. The air also
moved a little, as if the space she was in was very large -- not
outdoors -- but part of a large enclosed space like the warehouse
they suspected. She felt her way on stockinged feet, senses
sharpened, listening as she crept down the staircase that curved
around the cylindrical tank. She had the oddest feeling that she
could hear breathing from many bodies and the sound of a small
quiet fan.

At the bottom of the stairs she began feeling the outside
walls of the tank for a door. Almost immediately, she found
something. Her groping hands found a metal bar, like a handle, that
did not pull forward or down so it had to pull up as if it were on
a hinge. She took it in hands and prepared to pull up, but first
she prayed. "God, please don't let this open flood gates in there."
She could hear in her imagination, the gush of fluid, Mulder
drowning. But giving in to fear wasn't going to get them anywhere.
She pulled. It was rusty and heavy and she had to try more than
once. Finally, it gave a little. With a heave, she threw up the
metal beam.

Mulder must have heard her working. Within seconds he had
pushed open the metal door from the inside and was standing close
beside her in the doorway thrusting something into her hands. She
realized after a moment that he had handed her her shoes. She
slipped them on. They were still blind so they faced outward and
touched back to back instead of exchanging looks which they would
have done. Now for the next step. Only in which direction?

At that moment the lights came up. Blinding them. After the
absolute blackness it was as if they had walked into the sun.

Even before his eyes adjusted, Mulder whirled blinking,
dropping into a defensive posture, his empty hands open and waiting
-- and what he saw made his volatile temper blaze. He and Scully
had just exited from a large black metal tank which looked a lot
like he had expected. Also as expected, the tank was inside a
warehouse, if not the one where they had originally been sent then
one very much like it. What fired his anger was that they were
surrounded, not by thugs or underworld nasties but by fresh-faced
enlisted men and higher ranking army types in uniforms with brass
buttons. Standing behind was an array of civilians in suits, some
with shoulder holsters casually displayed over their white shirts
who might as well have had 'CIA' tattooed on their foreheads. All
were studying the two as if they were specimens under a microscope.
Mulder noticed a video screen was set up and he knew somehow
instantly that at least while they had been in the black tank they
had been watched on infrared.

Dana, for one of the few times in her life that Mulder could
remember, could think of nothing to say. Mulder on the other hand
had a string of obscenities he thought would be appropriate for the
occasion which he had heard in places he certainly would never tell
his mother he had visited. He had opened his mouth to expostulate
upon some of these when he stopped in utter astonishment as a
solidly built man with a military bearing, wearing the costume of
the stylish Washington bureaucrat, emerged from the crowd and
walked toward them.

"That will be all, gentleman," Assistant Director Skinner said
and though the phrase was meant for the assembled gathering in
general Mulder took it as a direct warning to him to keep his own
mouth firmly shut.

"I think we all want to thank Agents Mulder and Scully for
their cooperation," Skinner commented formally with a slight bow of
recognition in their direction. "Now as I explained, just before
this 'demonstration', Special Agents Mulder and Scully have just
returned from a very difficult assignment so I think we should
respect their wishes for a speedy departure." Before anyone moved,
however, he turned to the Army brass. "Generals, I believe that the
results of the exercise are indisputable and support the FBI's
position is this matter. I hope it will assist you in the future
deployment of your forces." Dana could have sworn that the final
phrase was peppered with some contempt.

Even before the crowd had began to break up, Mulder and Scully
stepped up to Skinner both demanding by the expressions in their
faces and the tenseness of their postures some additional
explanation. Skinner was in full Assistant Director mode, however,
a demeanor which was more than sufficient to silence Mulder who was
again, now that the surprise of seeing his superior had worn off,
bursting with indignation. Dana was no less angry though she hid it
better. Skinner motioned for them to follow and led them into a
room which turned out to be a small, scruffy office. Hastily, Dana
closed the flimsy door though she didn't believe that even solid
wood would be able to muffle her partner's impending explosion.

"What the hell was that! Some kind of a joke!"

"No, joke," Skinner said with enough military inflection to
take the edge off of even Mulder's temper. "An exercise, a test
which due to the nature of its intended purpose required that the
participants be unaware that they were being tested." Skinner sat
on the edge of the room's desk and folded his arms.

"Cut the crap!" Mulder snarled.

Skinner did not move, his expression did not change, but
somehow his Assistant Director guise melted a little. There was
sympathy in his eyes. "I can appreciate your outrage, Agent Mulder.
The exercise was -- an embarrassment -- and I want you to know that
I personally spoke out against it, but I, too, have superiors who
themselves must answer to some pretty powerful people."

Mulder made a comment to that which Skinner pretended not to
hear.

"As you know, just as the members of the FBI or CIA go out to
instruct certain segments of the miliary community on topics
related to our special talents, upper management teams from these
organizations also get together to discuss subjects of general
concern." He turned to Scully who had sat down on a rickety folding
chair from exhaustion as much as anything else. She was dirty and
disheveled and decidedly more blotchy than when he'd seen her in
the morning. "The topic which led to the implementation of this
exercise is one which you, Agent Scully, I believe would find
interesting. The military is very concerned, as you know, about the
placement of women in the armed forces. In particular, they are
concerned about how men and women will respond if they are thrown
together in stressful, combat situations."

Dana crossed her leg and even managed to make it look elegant
under the present circumstances. "I take it the notable phrase here
is 'thrown together'."

Skinner pursed his lips and tilted his jaw. "Correct. Very
perceptive, Agent Scully. The FBI's position is, as you know, that
men and women can serve admirably together and at close quarters
without -- entanglements." Mulder rolled his eyes. "The Department
of Defense has been rather hesitant in allowing women to
participate in hazardous duty. Especially alongside men. The Army
requested an instructive demonstration to show that under stress
men and women already known to each other would not, by default,
engage in behavior unbecoming to their positions-"

"They made a bet!" Mulder cried out with sudden inspiration.
"Some general in the Army bet some director in the FBI that a male
and female agent when thrown together in a compromising situation
would fail to 'act like soldiers'." Mulder had calmed down and was
now more disgusted than angry. "Someone could have been injured."
Mulder thought about Scully teetering on Mulder's shoulders high
above the floor and being thrown blind into an opening the size of
an air duct. "Agent Scully could have been killed."

"There was never intended to be any real danger," Skinner
explained and rubbed the back of his neck while looking at them
through the corner of his eye. "You were, however, much more
inventive than anticipated. No one thought you would be able to
make it out of the tank. No one anticipated that you would even
try. Once you had investigated the first ten feet or so and found
no way out boredom would have set in..."

"And if saw that you were going to get your little show how
long would you have let that go on," Mulder snarled.

"There was no chance of that. I knew the agents I was
choosing," Skinner said without a hint of apology.

"Then why did you let it go on?" Mulder demanded.

Skinner seemed to find a gnawed pencil left on the top of the
old metal desk fascinating. "The two of you were rather incredible.
I think the group just wanted to see how it would come out." When
Skinner finally raised his head, his eyes bored into Mulder's.
"From my experience, Agent Mulder, I believe that you would not
have wanted to let such an opportunity to 'stick it to the
military' go by. Was I correct?"

Seeing a light begin to kindle in Mulder's eyes, Dana hastily
cut in with, "Sir, I believe we have a question on the table that
has not yet been answered yet. Did the Army make a bet? And what
about what went on inside the box? More private, more dangerous.
What if when the box was opened we were shown to have already --
committed improprieties?"

All Skinner said in answer to that was, "I have complete
confidence in you and Agent Mulder's ability to represent the
Bureau at all times, Agent Scully."

"You did?" Mulder asked. He wondered if he should take that as
in insult.

"And you didn't let me down. You didn't, did you, Agent
Mulder?" Skinner's eyes returned to Mulder's face. He could easily
have been a father shaking down a fifteen-year-old who had just
brought his daughter home from her first date.

Dana glanced at Mulder, eyebrows raised. She probably looked
worse than he did and he was pretty bad. They were dirty, tired,
disgusted with management and hungry. Mad, passionate sex was the
last thing on their minds at that moment. On second thought, Dana
decided that she best not speak for Mulder.

"I can understand the 'rat in the maze' test for proving we
could work together," Dana commented, "but what was the point of
the ride around the Beltway?"

"Inaccessibility," said Mulder using his analyst's voice.
"Isolation. The two of us alone against the world -- as if we
haven't been there enough already. And to increase the level of
stress. It's a common practice in interrogations -- and torture,"
he added significantly. His anger of the injustice of it all had
returned. "And, of course, they had the other thing in mind,
Scully, which you've already mentioned."

Skinner coughed, a meaningful cough which meant that there
were some topics which had now been discussed quite sufficiently,
thank you. By a relaxation of his shoulders they could tell he was
definitely changing the subject this time. "I won't insult you by
trying to commend you for being either good soldiers or good
sports. The Bureau understands completely that you never
volunteered for this. Therefore, due to the unusual circumstances
of the exercise, the Bureau would like to extend to you a small
token of their appreciation." He took from his pocket two envelopes
and handed one to each of the agents. "Those are vouchers for round
trip airline tickets, effective immediately, for anywhere in the
continental United States." Both Mulder and Dana stared. Skinner
stood up. "Now get the hell out of my sight. I don't want to see
either one of you in the office or in this city until sometime
Tuesday morning."

Mulder acted like he still had something to say; however, Dana
had other ideas. Not needing any additional coaxing and partially
afraid that Skinner should suddenly think of some other little
assignment which needed attention first, Dana took hold of Mulder's
arm and propelled him out of the grungy little office. In the end
Mulder actually did not protest much. She shut the door softly as
they went out. The warehouse was empty now.

Mulder was staring blankly at the envelope in his hand.

"Bets that the Bureau never paid for these," Dana said.
"Skinner did."

"Scully, this is a bribe."

"What?"

"Scully, an Assistant Director of the FBI just handed us a
bribe."

"Mulder, don't be ridiculous. Hasn't anyone ever just given
you a present before... no strings attached?"

His dark eyes and stony expression indicated that maybe no one
ever had.

"Mulder, can't you just accept this in the spirit in which it
was given?"

"Which was?"

"A gift, a reward, an apology for the horrible thing they did
to us."

In response, Dana herself being examined by her partner in a
most curious way. "Scully, was it really all horrible?"

"Mulder, a few minutes ago I thought you were going to take
Skinner's head off."

"Because he put you in danger. There were other parts that
weren't so bad." Like the feel of her warm body next to his. Like
working together, the perfect team.

"What parts 'weren't so bad'?" Dana asked though she had some
pleasant memories of her own. Pride in accomplishment and the touch
of his hand in the dark.

"Like we're talking again and we 'did good', Agent Scully."

"Yes, we did do that, Agent Mulder."

Now when he lifted the envelop, there was a positive gleam in
his eye. "But maybe I'll still keep the passenger's copy -- as
blackmail -- you never know. Meanwhile," he waved the envelop in
the direction of the side door they had come in hours before,"I
don't know about you, but I'm going to Disney World." Then he
raised his eyes and ran a filthy hand through his skunk-scented
hair. "But first I'm going home and taking a shower. Maybe
several." He looked back at Scully when he found that she wasn't
following. Their eyes locked and held. He smiled at her like the
fox he could be. At that moment, if there was something better than
sex, Dana thought, it was his smile. "Are you coming?" he asked.

"Where?" she asked ruefully. "To Disney World or the shower?"

He shrugged. "Maybe both. You could use both. For now, I meant
to the car. I'll drive you back to pick up yours."

"In a minute," she told him and watched him walk off down the
corridor with a spring in his step like a man who suddenly had some
options.

Dana opened the office door again quietly. Skinner had been
staring out the dusty little office window. Guilty conscious? Dana
wondered.

"Yes, Agent Scully?"

"Excuse me, Director Skinner, "but I have one more question.
I think you do agree that the military was just hoping to find us
in a compromising position to prove their point that men and woman
can't be trusted to work together. But, sir, even if we had wanted
to in that box -- well, you know -- there really wasn't any room.
People joke about where -- it -- can be done is one thing but the
reality is another."

The older man put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked
down at the floor for a minute. "The actual physical box, not the
idea of the box, was my contribution. After all," he added
innocently, "I had your measurements."

"So you intentionally made it -- too small?" Dana looked hurt,
"Sir, I thought you said you had complete trust in us?"

He looked her straight in the eye and his were twinkling.
"Moderation in everything, Agent Scully, even in trust."

The End

---------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes:

I originally called this story a fantasy because the individuals
and organizations who set up the 'exercise' would never really do
such a thing. (At least, I don't think so. After all, there was the
Tailhook Scandal.)

Anyway, a friend of mine was once a real live spook from No Such
Agency (as it is affectionately called in the DC area) and there
really is such a place near BWI airport and the agencies mentioned
in this story do give classes to each other there, or so I'm told.

The first lines of the story which were written were paragraph
three and it wrote itself from there. Actually, I originally
intended for M & S to be really royally p---ed at each other for
almost the whole story, but, you know, the characters just wouldn't
behave. They kept trying to be nice to each other. And it really is
hard for two people to do the kind of work they do and not like
each other. So I guess they won and I lost but I really had a very
good time losing.

Where are they going on their vacation? Will they go together or
separately? For a long time I hadn't the faintest idea but now,
finally, five years after The Box was first posted, Revelations 3:
The VACATION is done. My apologies for the delay. And so... read
on.

Of course, immediately after their vacation they come home to the
Abductee. Not a fun time for either of them.

--------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------
             "Goodbye," said the fox,
             "And now here is my secret:
             It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
             What is essential is invisible to the eye."
                  A. de Saint-Exupery