by Colette Godkin
cgodkin@indigo.ie
 

From cgodkin@indigo.ie Sun Dec 29 20:41:27 1996
Disclaimer: Some of the characters in this story do not belong to me, they
belong to Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and
have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. I
merely borrowed them and promise to put them back when I've finished. I own
the characters nobody else wanted.

I have never been to South Dakota, but pictures I have seen recently make
me long to go there. I apologise for any factual errors regarding the State
which may occur in this story as a result of my ignorance.

Rating: PG13 for some suggestiveness and some violence.

Summary: Set in goldmining country, we unearth a new X-file and an old
murder, a little romance (although not between Scully and Mulder), and some
nuggets of information about Walter Skinner's past.

Request: Comments, suggestions, criticisms, or any other thoughts wanted,
please. Email me at <cgodkin@indigo.ie>.
 

LOST AND GONE FOREVER
by Colette Godkin (cgodkin@indigo.ie)

PART 01/07

"Mister Fitzgerald, I believe this will be a gold-mine again, if you will
pardon my little joke."

The older man looked at the younger with an expression that suggested he
would do no such thing. Michael Fitzgerald then turned from his companion
and continued with his task of prising the boards from the entrance to the
mine-shaft. He had refused the offer of assistance which the other man had
only halfheartedly given, saying he was the one who had put up these boards
forty years ago and he would be the one to take them down.

The air in the shaft tasted of decay. It was many decades since these
tunnels had been freshly dug. A few broken tools lay near the entrance;
beyond, the tunnels only decorations were rodent droppings and ancient
cobwebs.

Fitzgerald walked the tunnel with the assurance of a man whose family had
worked this mine for generations. He paid no heed to McQuaid, who picked
his way carefully between the tracks, terrified of tripping, for fear of
what he might land in. When they reached the point where the tunnel
branched, Fitzgerald paused for breath, in acknowledgement of the fact that
he was forty years older than the Michael Fitzgerald who had last walked
through the mine. He grinned suddenly as he noticed McQuaid, who could not
have been more than thirty-five, was more out of breath than himself, and
made some mental comments about "city folk".

"Yes sir," McQuaid said, mistaking the reason for the grin. "This is what
the tourists want to see: the way it really was back then. Of course we'll
need to fix it up a bit - a few less rats, a few more tools, get the trucks
going again. We had a thought about putting in some miners, you know
dummies, although if they moved, that could be good."

Fitzgerald made a non-committal sound in reply. He didn't give a damn what
McQuaid and his business associates did down here, so long as the
disruption to himself and his family was kept to a minimum and they paid
over his share of the profits regularly. He hadn't wanted to open the mine
to the public; in truth, he didn't really believe the public would be
interested. However, Kate had thought the proposal interesting, and so he
had agreed. After all, some day this would all be hers, it was only right
she should have a say in matters; also, Katy's wish had always been his
command.

"First of all, we'll need to have the engineers in to make sure it's safe.
We don't want to lose any paying customers in a cave-in."

"We don't?" Fitzgerald queried, deadpan.

McQuaid tittered nervously. He never knew when the old man was being funny
or just being his usual self - difficult.

"I suppose it *is* safe for us to be here now?" he ventured.

Fitzgerald shrugged and headed down one of the smaller tunnels. As the old
man was the one carrying the torch, McQuaid followed reluctantly. Some ten
feet along the tunnel, Fitzgerald stopped to examine an upturned truck.

"I don't remember this being here," he commented to himself, then turned to
his companion. "Hey you! Help me lift this, there's something under here."

The two men pushed the truck onto its side, revealing what lay underneath.

McQuaid staggered back horrified, his horror increasing as Fitzgerald knelt
beside the remains and actually touched the hair. After a few moments he
turned to the younger man. There were tears in his eyes and a catch in his
voice as he whispered:

"I know her."

*****

Special Agent Fox Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't like
playing waiting games. If Assistant Director Skinner had something to say
he should simply come out and say it, if not he should send the two F.B.I.
agents about their business, which in Mulder's case was the perusal of some
particularly intriguing photographs of alleged U.F.O.'s. His partner
Special Agent Dana Scully had equally pressing business awaiting her:
catching up on the paperwork from several cases, a task which Mulder
invariably managed to avoid. For now, she sat beside him quietly, her
expression inscrutable.

"Sir?" Mulder broke the silence which had now lasted some five minutes.

Scully glanced furtively at her watch and smiled to herself. Exactly on
time, Mulder was so predictable.

"Yes Agent Mulder?" Skinner replied, at last looking up from the file on
his desk, which he had been staring at since they came into the room.

"You wanted to see us about something," Mulder prompted.

"Yes, I did."

There was another long pause, during which Scully had visions of her
partner's impatience causing him to leap across the desk and strangle their
boss.

"I have a new case for you," Skinner eventually continued. "It's not  an
X-file, not strictly speaking an F.B.I. matter... yet. But I think your
input could be useful."

He passed the file to Mulder. Scully pulled her chair closer to read it also.

"The remains of a woman found in an abandoned mine near the town of Seven
Pines, South Dakota," Mulder read aloud. "Preliminary examination suggests
she died approximately twenty years ago?"

Mulder looked up in surprise.

"You want us to investigate this?"

Skinner nodded.

"The owner of the mine insists that it's been boarded up for the past forty
years, but clearly he's mistaken," Skinner explained. "The woman was killed
by a single shot to the head. They were exploring the mine with a view to
opening it as a tourist attraction when they found her."

Mulder grinned mischievously.

"Maybe it's a hoax to bring in more business," he suggested. "Some people
like that kind of thing, visiting murder sites. If the place is haunted by
this woman's ghost they could make a fortune. What?!"

This last comment was addressed to Scully who had been trying to get his
attention throughout his speech. She pointed at the bottom of the page.

"The victim was identified by her father as Eve Fitzgerald Skinner," Mulder
read.

Skinner leant across the desk, thrusting his face close to Mulder's and
from between clenched teeth said:

"I believe your profitable ghost is my wife."

*****

"You could have stopped me," Mulder complained, for the hundredth time.

"I was trying to," Scully replied. "Why do you think I kept kicking you?
Did you think I was playing footsie?

"Let's just pray we can solve this case, because I don't want to go back to
Skinner empty-handed after what you did. Keep reading."

Mulder, however, closed the file on his lap and turned to look at the
passing scenery. This part of the country was really quite lovely and
entirely new to him.

"Why do you think Skinner wanted us to come here? I mean why not come himself?"

"I don't know. It *is* a bit strange, not wanting to see her," Scully
replied thoughtfully.

"Would *you* want to see someone who'd been dead in a mine for twenty years?"

Scully ignored the question; Mulder's attempts at humour had landed them in
enough trouble already.

"I assume he'll be here for the funeral," she continued. "I suppose he
wanted to stay away until the investigation was concluded. Although,
considering our recent success rate with cases, I wonder if he made the
right choice."

"Maybe that's why he chose us, maybe *he* murdered her."

Scully gave an exasperated sigh, pulled the car in to the side of the road
and said:

"O.K. Mulder, *you* drive and *I'll* make the kind of comments that will
lose us our jobs."

They swopped seats, and as they moved off again Scully began to leaf
through the file.

"It seems when she went missing twenty years ago, her disappearance was not
looked upon as suspicious. That's odd."

"What? That they thought she left him of her own accord? How long were they
married?"

"Three years."

"That long? And you're surprised?"

"I don't know Mulder, this is just too weird. Skinner with a wife? I didn't
think he had any life outside of his office. Makes you wonder."

"If Cancerman bounces grandchildren on his knee?"

"Something like that. Although I sincerely hope not."

"I don't think you're going to get much more out of that file, Scully. I've
been through it all already and I have concluded that this is an
open-and-shut case."

"Not wishing to cast doubt on your pet theory that Skinner done her in, but
I think you did overlook something. You didn't notice that Walter Skinner
is a dad."

"What?! Let me see that!"

"Mulder! For God's sake watch the road, you nearly hit that truck. I'll
read it to you.

"Katrina Mary Skinner, born twenty-second of September, 1974. She lives
with her maternal grandfather Michael Fitzgerald. Their ranch is quite near
the mine. In fact, it seems he owns the whole mountain."

"Well, we're nearly there now. So, do we go and stare at the human
curiosity who is Walter Skinner's daughter, or can we contain ourselves
long enough to check into a motel first?"
 

END OF PART 01/07

Please note: When I wrote this story, the episode which revealed that
Skinner had a wife hadn't been aired. In fact we still haven't seen it here
in Ireland, but an American friend was kind enough to inform me of it. I
don't know whether this story contradicts the episode or could live
comfortably with it. Whichever is the case, I hope you enjoy my story. I
apologise in advance for any inconsistencies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 

PART 02/07

Earl Thompson, proprietor of Earl's Inn regarded the two F.B.I. agents with
some curiosity. There could only be one reason why they were here in Seven
Pines: investigating the murder of poor Eve Fitzgerald. The local grapevine
had ascertained that she had been murdered before the sheriff himself had
heard. No-one had talked of anything else since. Of course, everyone now
maintained that they had suspected foul play all along, even if some folk
thought she had just run away. Those few people who had only moved into the
area in the last twenty years had been swamped with people offering to tell
them "poor Eve's" sad story, a story which Earl was now mentally rehearsing
in anticipation of questioning by the "feds".

"Anything else I can get you folks?" he asked, approaching the table where
the two agents were finishing a late dinner.

"No, thank you. That was delicious," Mulder replied. "But perhaps you could
answer a question for us?"

"Sure."

Earl pulled another chair to the table and settled himself for a chat.

Although Mulder had only intended asking directions to the Fitzgerald
place, the landlord's willingness to talk about the family was so obvious
that he decided to take advantage of it.

Earl, a long-time resident of the town, was indeed a mine of information.
In anticipation of gems to come, in particular any gossip about Skinner,
Mulder patiently sat through the recitation of the family history of the
Fitzgerald's, starting with their emigration to the New World from Ireland.
Scully, in spite of the fact that they had been sent there by the man
himself, couldn't help but feel that they were prying into Skinner's
private life.

"So, I guess you two know Walter Skinner, seeing as you're with the F.B.I.
and all. What do you make of him?"

"He's our boss," Scully replied.

Earl chuckled.

"I reckon that answers my question about what you think of him. I can't say
as I ever really took to him myself, he was never one for talking much.
Still he's had a hard time of it I guess, ever since the first time Eve
disappeared."

"You mean she had disappeared before?" Scully queried.

"Didn't you know about that? She went missing for months before her baby
was born. They were here on vacation, staying with her folks at the house.
She just went out one day and didn't come back. Just over seven months
later I think it was, she turned up on the steps of the County Hospital
about to have the baby. No-one knew what had happened to her. Poor thing,
they say she didn't know herself, or she wasn't able to tell.

"She'd gone very strange. I heard she wouldn't even look at the baby. If
anyone tried to talk to her about where she'd been all that time she'd get
hysterical.

"It was a shame. I remember her playing out in the street there with the
other kids when she was a little girl. She was such a nice kid."

Earl paused for a minute, lost in his memories.

"What happened then?" Mulder prompted him.

"Well, they never did find out what had happened to her," Earl answered.
"Walter reckoned he couldn't look after her and the baby, so he left them
here with her parents, went back to his job in Washington, visited every
now and then. A couple o' years later it seemed she was getting a bit
better. She started looking after the baby, and going out places again. So
Walter came to take them back home with him and the next day she was gone."

"Without a trace?"

"All she took with her was what she had in her purse. She left her car at
the bus station in Rapid City and she vanished."

"Did she get on a bus?"

"No-one could tell, a lot of people go through there every day."

"Poor Skinner," Scully muttered to herself.

Earl nodded in sympathetic agreement.

"Yeah, he took it awful hard. Well, it did look like she was running away
from him, even if it turns out she didn't get very far.

"She really loved him once and I think he still loved her, even though
she'd changed so much. I remember their wedding, I guess most folks 'round
here do; it was quite a party. Mike Fitzgerald is a big man in this town,
and nothing was too good for his daughter, or for his grand-daughter for
that matter."

"Tell us about her," Mulder encouraged him, as the landlord fell silent.

Earl suddenly got to his feet.

"You'll meet Kate tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.
Sleep well, breakfast's at seven."

*****

Mulder climbed out of the car, stretched his long limbs and sighed contentedly.

"Country life agreeing with you?" Scully asked.

"It sure is. Smell that air."

"All I can smell are the horses," Scully commented, glancing around the
stable-yard for someone to talk to.

"Yeah, that reminds me: breakfast."

"What?"

"Horses. We need to get some exercise if we're going to keep eating like we
did this morning. Earl certainly has a generous hand with the maple syrup."

"He certainly does."

The two agents turned to see who had spoken. A young woman had just emerged
from one of the stalls behind them.

"You're welcome to come riding while you're here, but I imagine you want to
get on with the interrogation first."

"Katrina Skinner?" Mulder asked, in a tone that betrayed his surprise.

"Kate. You're Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?"

"Yes," Scully replied. "I suppose your father told you we were coming."

"Yeah, Walt favoured us with one of his epic phone calls. They're rare, but
they're memorable. This one lasted all of one minute.

"Coffee? Or is there any danger after one of Earl's infamous breakfasts
that you'll explode?"

Mulder grinned at her. "Oh, I think we could squeeze in another cup."

"You two go up to the house then. Jane will look after you. I'll follow you
in a minute."

"I guess she takes after her mother then," Mulder commented in an undertone
as they followed the driveway to the house.

"Why? She seemed quite sane to me," Scully replied, deliberately
misunderstanding him.

"I mean, in all the years I've known Walter Skinner, he's never offered me
coffee."

A few minutes after the housekeeper had settled them in the lounge with
their coffee, Kate entered. They had had just about enough time to examine
the photographs on the mantelpiece and smile at the sight of Walter Skinner
with a full head of hair, before they heard the footsteps in the passage
outside.

"He did look quite different then, didn't he?" Kate commented as she took a
seat facing them.

The two agents started guiltily, then relaxed and smiled as Kate laughed.

"Don't worry. I always make a beeline for the photographs when I'm left
alone in someone else's house too.

"That's my grandparents there, and my mother next to it."

"Oh, I thought that was you," Scully said.

"Thanks, but the similarity is only physical," Kate replied. "If you ever
got on my bad side, you'd know I'm more like my father.

"Grandpa should be back soon. I suppose he's the one you want to talk to. I
wouldn't know much about what happened twenty years ago. They try to keep
me in the dark about most things around here."

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked.

"Well, they always avoided talking about my mother when I was young. I
learnt from a kid at school that she had gone crazy, and abandoned me when
I was two. I got in a terrible fight with him, and then Grandpa and Grandma
decided to tell me themselves before I broke anyone else's ribs."

"You broke some kid's ribs?"

"I told you I was like my dad in a fight."

Scully considered the young woman's tall, well-built frame and decided that
maybe she was more like her father after all.

"Anyway, do you want to go up to the mine while we're waiting for Grandpa?"

"Don't you mind going there?" Scully asked, surprised.

"Because they found my mother's body there? I don't believe in ghosts Agent
Scully. Maybe, it seems a little heartless, but I don't even remember her,
and she never took much interest in me. It really doesn't bother me to go
there."

The path from the house to the mine wound steeply up the mountainside.
Scully found herself struggling to keep up with the long-legged strides of
Mulder and Kate Skinner. She wished she didn't feel such antipathy toward
the other woman, she knew she was being unfair to her; but Kate reminded
her too much of the girls who had excelled in gym class and had always made
Scully feel short and unfit.

The other two were some distance ahead of her, deep in conversation. Mulder
seemed to be getting great amusement out of whatever they were discussing.
Scully supposed that it was inevitable he should enjoy the company of
someone so tall, attractive and blonde as Kate Skinner. She grinned to
herself, wondering what Walter Skinner would make of this. He had shown
admirable restraint in never hitting Mulder back after that time Mulder had
punched him. However, seeing Mulder hitting on his daughter might just push
him over the edge.

Mulder and Kate went out of sight around a bend in the path and when Scully
finally reached that point she saw them disappearing into the entrance of
the mine.

"Thanks for waiting for me," she muttered as she hurried after them into
the darkness.

The body had been removed and the scene closely examined by the local
officers, whose report the F.B.I. agents had that morning received, but
Mulder and Scully spent some time going over the section of the tunnel
where Eve Skinner had been found. For Mulder, this was as much to get a
feel for the location and the possibilities of the crime as for finding
physical evidence.

After a while, they heard footsteps coming along the tunnel.

"Who's there?" Mulder called out.

"I might ask you the same question," the other person called back. "This is
my property you're trespassing on."

Michael Fitzgerald soon came into view, took one look at the trespassers
and spat out: "F.B.I."

"Mister Fitzgerald? I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully."

Fitzgerald pointedly ignored Mulder and turned to his grand-daughter instead.

"I told you not to come up here. I would have brought them up."

"I didn't mind."

"Well, I mind. This is no place for you, no place for anyone. Once this
business is sorted, I'm closing it up for good."

He turned to Mulder: "So, who killed my daughter?"

"Mister Fitzgerald," Scully intervened. "In your statement you said that
you had boarded up the entrance to the mine some forty years ago. Did you
ever notice if the boards had been interfered with since then?"

"Well, I didn't examine them every day!" he snapped, then continued more
calmly. "Maybe I should have, but Eve's car was at the bus station, a
hundred miles away. People saw her there. I never thought to look for her
here."

Kate took her grandfather's arm and turned him toward the exit.

"It wouldn't have mattered Grandpa. Even if you'd found her sooner, it
wouldn't have made any difference, not to her."

"We might have had a better chance of catching whoever did it. How are they
ever going to find out now?"

"Walter has great faith in them. He said if anyone could find her killer,
they could."

"Since when have you had faith in that no-good jerk?"

"He may not be much of a father, but I hear he's good at his job. Give him
a chance to prove it," Kate replied.

*****

A thin strand of blue-grey smoke climbed upwards in the still air. The
smoker watched it with apparent absorption for a few minutes, then leant
forward and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray on the edge of the
desk. His attention now returned to the man sitting opposite him.

"Well? Where are they then?" he asked.

Assistant Director Skinner glared at the man who so calmly strolled into
his office whenever he chose and always demanded an answer to his
questions.

"I'm sure you know exactly where Mulder and Scully are," Skinner replied
angrily. "What's your interest in this?"

The other man lit his next cigarette before replying.

"I'm always interested in what my two young friends are doing. Their
interests are our interests, and I find their enthusiasm endlessly
fascinating.

"You think this case isn't an X-file, Agent Skinner? I have found that
Agent Mulder attracts them to him like flies."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that, for the sake of your lovely daughter, there are some
things that should stay buried."

END OF PART 02/07
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 

PART 03/07

"Where to first?" Scully asked as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Mulder glanced at the notes in his hand.

"We might as well start with the late Eve Skinner's doctor. It's not far
from here. Head west along Main Street and stop when you reach the end, his
house is the last on the right. Maybe this Doctor Carroll can fill in some
of the gaps. Michael Fitzgerald was certainly giving nothing away about his
daughter and her relationship with her husband."

"That's understandable, it's not going to be easy for him to talk about
her. And he probably didn't want to say too much about Skinner, whom he
obviously doesn't like, in case we're friends of his."

"I don't think I've ever thought of Skinner as a friend, he's more of an
uncle," Mulder commented. "You know the kind: he quizzes you about your
grades and tells your father he should send you to Military Academy - make
a man of you."

"I know what you mean, I had an aunt like that," Scully replied.

"She wanted to send you to a military academy?"

"No, a finishing school, to turn Missy and me into ladies; but the idea's
the same."

Mulder was silent for a while, then said thoughtfully, almost to himself:

"I've always envied you, having a large family. After Samantha was gone,
and there was just me and my parents, this terrible chasm seemed to open up
between us.

"Sometimes I think that I see everything about my childhood with her
through rose-tinted glasses. I often wonder how we'd have got on later, as
we were growing up."

"You'd have gone through various phases of loving and hating one another
and telling on each other to your parents."

Mulder smiled and nodded.

"Samantha was a master at that. I remember one famous incident when I
'executed' one of her dolls with Dad's paper guillotine. She didn't
hesitate to rat on me, I thought I was going to be grounded for the rest of
my life.

"But in spite of all the arguments, we were really close; I don't think
you're ever as close to your parents as to your brothers and sisters."

"I guess that's true," Scully acknowledged. "But I don't know that any of
us appreciated that growing up, when we had to queue for the bathroom.
Melissa and I always shared a room, so when I got my first apartment, I
thought I was in heaven. But now..."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Scully wrapped up in her own
thoughts, Mulder for once at a loss to know what to say to her.

"It's just that now," she continued. "My apartment seems so big and empty;
and every time I walk in the door I think I see Alex Krycek standing over
Missy."

Mulder's fists clenched involuntarily at the mention of the former F.B.I.
agent, for a while his own partner, who had murdered both his father and
Scully's sister.

"I know," he said. "I've only been back to our house once since Dad died. I
couldn't wait to get away again. Mom is talking about selling it, but I
don't like the idea of someone else living there with my memories. Does
that sound crazy to you?"

Scully shook her head.

"Maybe it's the reason why I haven't sold my apartment. What on earth?"

She pulled the car in to the curb, behind the fire engine, and they stared
at what should have been Dr. Carroll's house and surgery. All that remained
was a burnt-out shell, smoke still rising from the embers.

"I figured you two would turn up some time," Sheriff Wilder greeted them.
"And no, we don't know what caused it yet."

"Doctor Carroll?" Scully asked.

The sheriff shook his head.

"It started early this morning, about three o'clock. Doc didn't have a
chance. The house went up like a bonfire."

"Do you suspect arson?" Mulder interrupted.

"I suspect everything and everyone," Wilder replied. "Until the fire
investigator tells me different. I'll send you a copy of his report."

He moved away to discourage the crowd of onlookers who had gathered nearby.
Scully and Mulder exchanged glances.

"No, I wouldn't call you 'Spooky' if you said this was more than a
coincidence," Scully said.

*****

Dana Scully held out her hands to the fire and smiled to herself. Perhaps
the case was getting nowhere fast, perhaps they had spent a long day in a
fruitless search for relevant history on the dead woman, but now as night
was falling and the wind was rising, there could be few things more
pleasant than a log fire and the prospect of one of Earl's sumptuous
repasts. She closed her eyes and realised that, for the first time in many
months, she felt content.

It was then that the phone rang.

A knock on the door followed hard on the heels of the phone call and
Scully, with a deep sigh, acknowledged that the brief respite was over.

"Come in."

"Well don't sound so welcoming," Mulder commented as he entered her room;
but the smile on his face showed that he wasn't at all put out by her tone.

"I've just had a phone call," Scully began.

"Ditto."

"O.K., you go first," she replied. "Yours seems to be better news than mine."

"Michael Fitzgerald just rang to invite us to dinner. He seems in more of a
mood to talk; I suspect he's been drinking. I said we'd be there."

Scully looked at him quizzically as he continued to grin in a most
irritating way.

"What's so funny?" she challenged him.

"Well, actually he asked *me* to dinner and told me to bring my 'foxy
ladyfriend'. Don't worry Scully, I defended your honour: I said you weren't
my ladyfriend. Then he said did that mean you weren't my friend or you
weren't a lady, in which case I should make sure to bring you."

"I think I'll pass on the invitation."

Mulder lay down on the hearth rug and smiled up at her.

"Come on Scully, you could do a lot worse. A rich old man with a nice
house, even owns a Goldmine."

His good humour was irresistible and Scully had to smile.

"I guess you're right, but you do realise that would make me Skinner's
stepmother-in-law."

Mulder laughed loudly.

"There's a mind-bending concept."

"Oh, that reminds me, my phone call."

"Who was it?" Mulder asked, eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the fire.

"I'm sorry to ruin whatever you had planned for this evening Romeo," Scully
replied. "But it was Skinner. He's on his way, should be here in a couple
of hours."

Mulder sat bolt upright, a distressed look on his face.

"No."

"I'm afraid so. You go on up to the ranch, and I'll wait here for him and
follow later. That'll give you a few hours with the lovely Kate before
Daddy arrives."

"Very funny Scully, ruin my evening and then laugh at me."

"I'm sorry," Scully said, attempting, but failing to put on a serious
expression. "No really, I am sorry. I mean, you're even wearing the
*expensive* after-shave."

Mulder slammed the door behind him in reply.

END OF PART 03/07
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 04/07

Mulder comforted himself with the thought that it would take Scully and
Skinner even longer to reach the ranch than it had taken him. The rain had
started soon after he had left the town and the road was quickly churned
into mud. The autumnal storm was sudden and ferocious, and Michael
Fitzgerald gave it as his opinion that he wouldn't be surprised if the
river burst its banks again, in which case the road would be flooded nearer
the town and be impassable.

Mulder wondered if it was a sin to pray for a natural disaster, but quickly
realised that he was not alone in how he felt. Neither Kate nor her
grandfather showed any inclination to see Skinner that evening, although
Fitzgerald did express disappointment that Mulder had left that "pretty
little thing" behind at the inn.

Dinner was a jovial affair, both food and conversation being good and
plentiful. A couple of glasses of good whiskey and some persuasion from his
grand-daughter had mellowed Fitzgerald's attitude toward the F.B.I. and he
had become much more relaxed and talkative.

"You know, I liked Walter Skinner when I first met him," Fitzgerald
commented, as they took their coffee into the lounge. "He was a lot like
you then, a bit more cynical maybe. I don't know, I guess circumstances
change people in different ways, it's hard to know why people do the things
they do. All the same, I find it hard to forgive him for just leaving Kate
here and going back to that job of his, as if it was the only thing that
mattered."

"Let's not talk about that now, Grandpa," Kate said in a subdued voice.

"I'm sorry Katy," Fitzgerald replied. "You know we always wanted you here,
but he could have called and visited more often. He was always welcome."

"Was he?" Kate asked. "Did we really make him feel part of the family when
he came to see us? Grandma spiked his coffee with senna pods once, for
heaven's sake."

"My wife went a bit strange towards the end," Fitzgerald said by way of
explanation to Mulder. "Actually, she never liked poor Walter, but no-one
would have been good enough for our Eve as far as she was concerned. She
blamed him for Eve running away, I guess we both did."

They were silent for a few minutes, each reading their own thoughts in the
flickering light of the fire.

"I think I blamed Walter as well," Kate acknowledged. "I feel guilty now, I
mean there was another reason why she never came back."

"I wonder what the connection was between the first and second time she
disappeared," Mulder said thoughtfully.

Fitzgerald shook his head.

"We could get no sense out of her when she turned up at the hospital. She
said some strange things, some terrible things, but none of it made any
sense. Only God knows where she was all those months and what happened to
her."

"Someone else knows too," Mulder replied. "Maybe now we'll find out. Can
you remember any of what she said?"

The old man shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"She said that I wasn't her baby," Kate answered for him. "It's alright
Grandpa, you needn't worry, I heard it a long time ago. It's a small town."

"Where some people should learn to keep their mouths shut," Fitzgerald snarled.

"She refused to see me," Kate continued. "She kept saying that I wasn't
hers and she didn't want me. When anyone asked her what she meant, either
she wouldn't answer or she'd become hysterical. It was the same when they
tried to find out where she had been.

"It was diagnosed as severe post-natal depression, but some of her doctors
thought there was more to it than that, that it was brought on by some sort
of trauma during the missing months."

"Did they ever get any idea as to what had happened?" Mulder asked. "Did
they try any regression therapy?"

"Funny you should ask that," Fitzgerald replied. "'Cause that was the only
thing that seemed to help. It was nearly two years afterwards that they
started that hypnosis thing to try and get her to remember. It was a last
resort really, they'd tried pretty much everything else, drugs mostly. Doc
Carroll didn't think much of the idea, but it seemed to work. She started
to take an interest in Katy, to go out a bit more, and she seemed more at
peace with herself. The nightmares even stopped."

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah, ever since she came back, she'd wake up screaming or crying most
nights. She'd say that she heard voices or saw someone, someone who scared
her, but she couldn't remember who it was."

"And did the regression therapy reveal anything?"

"It's hard to say. It was all very confused: she saw men without faces,
speaking in languages she didn't understand, strange stuff like that. Her
therapist seemed to think she was on the verge of a breakthrough, that it
might all come clear soon, that was just before she disappeared."

"Do you think that might have been connected to her disappearance? To her
murder?" Mulder asked eagerly.

Fitzgerald sighed and leant back in his chair, his eyes closed.

"I always thought I'd get wiser as I got older; but it seems to me that the
older I get the less I understand about this world. I don't understand how
anyone could hurt my Eve, how anyone could kill her, but someone did. I
don't know why."

Kate rose from her chair and crossed the room to her grandfather's side.

"I think we've talked enough about this for tonight Grandpa," she urged him
gently. "Maybe it's time for bed."

He got up slowly and, wishing them both "Goodnight", headed up the stairs,
looking suddenly older and more frail than before.

Kate watched him go, an expression of great sadness on her face. She sat on
the couch next to Mulder and regarded him thoughtfully.

"I suppose it's better to know the truth about my mother at last," she
began. "But it's just so hard to have all this brought up again,
particularly on Grandpa. He doesn't usually talk much about my mother, but
I guess everything that's happened lately has opened the floodgates."

"It must be hard on you too," Mulder said gently.

"When I was a kid, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything, without someone
recounting the story of 'poor Kate and poor Eve', or at least it seemed
like that. Then, after a while, it became old news and I could go into town
without feeling like people were talking about me behind my back.

"Ever since my mother's body was found, instead of feeling sorrow or
whatever it is I'm supposed to feel for a woman I don't even remember, all
I feel is resentment that my life and Grandpa's are being turned
upside-down again. Most of all I resent the fact that it took this for my
father to finally come and see me again. Did you know he hasn't been here
in two years, not since Grandma's funeral?"

"He never struck me as a warm man," Mulder commented.

"I wouldn't know," Kate replied. "I suspect you know him better than his
own daughter. Oh, I just want this nightmare to end and for things to get
back to the way they were."

The sudden ringing of Mulder's cellular phone made them both jump. Mulder
listened in silence to the voice on the other end of the line, then said:

"Fine. They're both fine... We'll see you in the morning then."

"Was that Walter?" Kate asked as he turned off the phone.

"Yeah, it seems there are trees down all over the place, and the river did
flood the road. They had to turn back, they'll come up in the morning."

"Which also means..."

"What?"

"That I'm stuck with you for tonight Agent Mulder."

"Sorry about that."

"Did I say I minded?"

*****

"The fire investigator confirmed this afternoon that the fire was started
deliberately," Scully said as she concluded her report to Assistant
Director Walter Skinner.

"I suppose I shouldn't speak ill of the dead," Skinner said. "But I never
really liked Doctor Carroll. You couldn't say that around this town
'though, they're very protective of their own."

"They don't really take to strangers?" Scully asked.

Skinner looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

"No, some of them don't. This is it then, is it? My interrogation. Am I a
suspect?"

Scully coloured deeply.

"Of course not sir, but you're obviously someone we have to interview.
Without Doctor Carroll, there are very few people left with any pertinent
information."

"But plenty of people with gossip," Skinner interrupted her.

"Sir, I didn't mean to start this now. It's been a long day."

"Actually, I'm not particularly tired, but I imagine you are. I'll say
goodnight Agent Scully."

"I'm not tired," Scully replied, then taking a deep breath, and hoping she
wouldn't regret what she was about to say, she continued: "If you want to
talk, it's alright."

"To you?" Skinner said in some surprise, before realising how rude it
sounded. "I'm sorry, I just didn't think you would want to talk to me."

He sat down again opposite Scully and stared into the fire without speaking
for some time. Eventually, he looked up at her and said:

"In some ways I'm glad we weren't able to go up to the ranch tonight. I
could do with time to sort my thoughts. I haven't seen Katy in two years, I
don't know what I'll say to her."

There was another long silence, which Scully hesitantly broke.

"When my father died, there were so many things I wished I could have said
to him. I think there were things he wanted to say to me too. We were
always close, but even so there were so many lost opportunities, times we
could have spoken and we didn't."

"You think I shouldn't waste my opportunities with Katy?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't planning on dying just yet," he said, then smiled at something
just recalled. "But after everything that's happened in the last few
months, I should know my plans have little to do with it. I seem to
remember you threatening my life at one point."

"If I remember rightly, the threat was mutual, sir."

"No, Agent Scully, you drew your weapon first."

"At the time, I thought you had been sent to kill me; but I had the wrong
F.B.I. agent."

"Did you really think I would kill you?"

There was a genuine look of hurt in his eyes and Scully was taken aback.

"No, I didn't want to think that, but everything was very confused at the
time. Mulder was missing and I didn't know who to trust."

Skinner nodded, in acknowledgement of the fact.

"I wouldn't have shot you, but I'm afraid to ask if you would have shot
me," he said, then added, with a sly grin: "Considering you had already
shot Agent Mulder."

Scully grimaced, saying: "And he has never let me forget it."

"He should be grateful to you," Skinner replied emphatically. "You probably
saved his life by your actions at that time."

"And he has the hole in his shoulder to remind him."

Scully shrugged off the discussion.

"Gratitude doesn't enter into it with Mulder. Too much has happened to the
two of us for that."

"I admire your loyalty to Agent Mulder and to the X-files," Skinner said.
"It's hard to imagine now that you were originally assigned to debunk
them."

"I still don't swallow them hook, line and sinker," Scully quickly pointed
out. "I still have my doubts about some of our cases, but I guess my
outlook on some things has broadened."

"I believe we've all changed our perspectives in the light of recent
events," Skinner agreed.

END OF PART 04/07
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 

PART 05/07

"...which was the year I graduated from college," Kate finished her story.

Mulder looked at her, baffled.

"Wait a minute, I'm getting confused; you mean you graduated when you were
seventeen. How did you manage that?"

"I was in an Accelerated Learning Program for gifted children," Kate
replied. "They kept pushing me onwards in school, until they pushed me out,
and I went to college. They said I was disruptive in school because I was
so far in advance of the other children."

"How disruptive were you?"

"Let's just say that breaking Johnny Thompson's ribs was not an isolated
incident."

Mulder couldn't help laughing.

"If that's Earl Thompson's grandson, it would explain why he didn't want to
talk to us about you."

Kate nodded.

"None of the Thompsons talk to me anymore. I really think the reason I was
such a trouble-maker was that I never stayed in any class long enough to
settle down and make friends. And I also seemed to have far too much
energy, I had to work it off somehow."

"On the other children?"

"I'm much calmer now," Kate assured him. "I no longer pose a threat to
society. Since I left college, I've been working here on the ranch. It
takes up all my time and energy."

Mulder poured them each another glass of wine, before asking:

"Are you happy with this?"

Kate considered this question for some moments, then answered:

"Happier than I've been doing anything else. For now, I can't think of
anything else I'd rather be doing. Maybe tomorrow Walter will come and ask
me to move to Washington."

"Would you go?"

"Without hesitation. My family seems to be constantly diminishing, I'd like
a chance to get to know my dad at last. Perhaps this cloud will have a
silver lining after all, and I'll get my wish."

They were both silent for a few minutes, then Kate shook her head as if to
dispel all gloomy thoughts and smiled at Mulder.

"Now it's your turn Agent Mulder, tell me your sordid history."

"Agent Mulder sounds very formal, if I'm going to be revealing intimate
details."

"Please don't ask me to call you Fox; don't take this personally, but I
don't think I could," Kate teased. "Would 'hey, you' be alright as a
substitute?"

"I've been called worse," Mulder replied. "Well, I suspect my days in
formal education were a bit different from yours. I wasn't on any
Accelerated Learning Program, although when I was in college in Oxford my
dad used to say I was on an Inebriated Learning Program.

"It was then that I learnt the Golden rule: never answer the phone when
you're drunk and/or in bed with someone; because it's guaranteed to be your
parents calling."

"And this is a tenet by which you live your life?"

"It's a valuable lesson, which has stood by me over the years."

Mulder moved closer to her and taking the wine glass from her hand, placed
it on the table. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her  toward
him.

"Shall we take a chance that our parents won't call tonight?" he asked.

Kate gave no reply save for a slow, deep kiss, which Mulder decided was
sufficiently expressive to answer his question.

*****

"I wouldn't have imagined Earl would have such a good cellar," Scully
commented as she tasted the wine. "I guess it's true you can't judge a book
by its cover, although we do it all the time. I mean -"

"So what had you decided about me that proved untrue?" Skinner asked,
correctly guessing where her sentence had been going.

Scully blushed deeply. It suddenly occurred to her that the intimacy of a
late night conversation, so natural with Mulder, was perhaps unwise with
the Assistant Director. She struggled for an acceptable answer, then
finally gave up and replied lamely:

"A lot."

Skinner did not appear to have taken offence. He leant back in his chair,
listened to the rain and considered the firelight as it shone through the
glass in his hand.

"There really are few pleasures greater than a warm fire on a stormy
night," he commented, after several minutes of contemplative silence.

Scully smiled warmly, then replied:

"I was thinking that myself earlier this evening. I hope they're as
comfortable at the ranch."

"Don't worry about them. It's a well-built house and, as they're
considerably higher than the town, they're a lot safer. Floods are the
greatest danger with these autumn storms."

"Did you spend much time here? It's beautiful country."

Skinner shook his head.

"We spent most of our vacations at the ranch with Eve's parents, but I
never lived here. I'm too much of a city person, I start to miss the noise
after a couple of weeks.

"Kate seems to be more like her mother than me. She loves the ranch; the
only time she left it for any length of time was to go to college. She
graduated top of her class, she could have done anything, but all she
wanted was to come back to South Dakota and raise horses."

"You would have liked her to join the F.B.I.?"

"Possibly, at the time; but after all that has happened in recent years, I
now want her as far away from X-files, conspiracies and extra-terrestrials
as possible."

"Maybe you shouldn't have assigned Agent Mulder and me to this case,"
Scully suggested with a smile, leaning forward to refill her own glass and
Skinner's. "X-files are drawn to him like bees to a honey-pot."

Skinner stared at her.

"Why did you say that?"

"You don't think it's true?"

"It reminded me of something someone said to me."

Both the fire and the wine had been making Scully rather drowsy, but the
expression on Skinner's face gave her cause for concern and she was quickly
wide awake again.

"What is it, sir? What do you know about the case?"

"Not much more than you, Agent Scully, but yesterday I had a vistor who
warned me off this case. I think you know who I mean."

"Why would he have an interest in this?"

"I don't know yet, but that's what I came here to find out."

"Then his warning had the opposite effect to what he intended," Scully
commented thoughtfully. "But he should have known you would come straight
here to make sure your daughter was alright."

"Except that now I can get no farther than Earl's damned Inn. Excuse me
Agent Scully, but Agent Mulder had better look after Katy."

Scully hoped that her face didn't betray what she was thinking as she replied:

"We'll go there first thing in the morning, she's in safe hands until then."

"I can't help worrying," Skinner said. "I should have been there for Eve.
God knows what happened to her.

"I was on my way from Washington to bring her and Katy home. She called me
just that morning, she sounded so happy. I couldn't remember the last time
I had heard her laugh. That was why it was so hard to believe she had gone
again, that she had just left us..."

Scully found her eyes filling with tears as she looked at the man she had
so often thought of as an automaton sitting behind a desk. For twenty years
he had believed his wife to have deserted him. She doubted it was any
comfort to him to know that Eve had not left him, but had been murdered and
her body dumped in a mine-shaft.

"Did she ever say anything that might have given some indication of -"

She stopped abruptly as he raised his head to look at her, his anguished
expression shocking her into silence. After a moment he composed himself
sufficiently to answer.

"She told me when she called to say she wanted to come back to Washington,
that she had something important to tell me, something she had remembered
in therapy, but couldn't understand. She seemed to think I would. But I
can't think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt her.

"I suppose some people suspect me. I wasn't always as patient with her as I
might have been, that was partly why I left her here with her parents. I
couldn't deal with her. I was never much good at dealing with other
people's problems, their weaknesses, their tears...babies."

He smiled sadly at Scully as he continued:

"I don't think I was cut out to be a father. I just wish I could explain to
Katy that despite all my faults as a husband and a father, I love her, and
I loved her mother - very much."

Scully moved to sit beside him, surreptitiously brushing the back of her
hand across her eyes. Forgetting all protocol, she saw only a sad and
troubled soul before her. The same instinct which had led her to study
medicine, the need to help others, prompted her to place her hand on his
arm and say with as much confidence as she could muster:

"I'm sure she knows that, and there's still time to tell her."

"Scully, you -"

Skinner stopped speaking, hesitated for a moment, then tried again, blaming
his distraction on the bright blue eyes which gazed so tenderly into his
own.

"Dana, thank you."

He took her hand in both of his, but resisted the impulse to tell her how
beautiful she looked in the firelight. The J. Edgar Hoover Building seemed
at this moment to be a million miles away, but even so, such a politically
incorrect statement to another agent might not easily be forgiven, or
forgotten.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked.

"Don't ask me why, but I was thinking of J. Edgar Hoover," he replied.
"Then I realised how wholly inappropriate that was."

"Do you always think of our patron saint at such moments?" she questioned,
with difficulty holding back her laughter.

"How would you define this moment?"

She shook her head, suddenly serious, and unable to meet his steady gaze.
She felt the colour rising in her face as a flood of surprising, but not
altogether unwelcome, ideas and images entered her mind.

"I don't know - yet."

She slipped her free hand into her pocket and switched off her cellular
phone, remembering a piece of advice Mulder had once given her.

END OF PART 05/07
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 

PART 06/07

Special Agent Fox Mulder had, in his college days, woken up in many strange
places and with some strange bed-fellows, both real and inflatable, the
latter placed there by that sense of humour which is peculiar to students.
He had even woken up to find a gun pointed in his face, but never his own
gun, and never in the hands of the woman next to whom he had fallen asleep.
He found himself a little disconcerted and rather surprised.

"That good, huh?" he queried.

"Get up and get dressed, and don't say a word," Kate ordered, in a cold and
unfamiliar tone.

*****

Michael Fitzgerald was standing on the porch of his house waiting for them
as Dana Scully parked the car. He acknowledged his two visitors with a nod
as they approached.

"Your partner went up to the mine early this morning," he informed her.

"Why?" Scully was surprised.

"I don't know," Fitzgerald replied. "He was gone when I got up. He told
Kate he had an idea, that there was something he wanted to check; he wanted
you two to follow him up."

"Do you mind if I see my daughter first?" Skinner asked acerbically.

"She's at the stables," Fitzgerald replied, then turned to Scully with a
more friendly expression. "Can I offer you some breakfast, young lady?"

"No, thank you," she replied. "I think I'll head up to the mine."

"No, wait for me Agent Scully," Skinner said. "I won't be long."

"You never are," Fitzgerald muttered, as he watched his son-in-law walk
toward the stable-yard. "Not when it comes to spending time with your only
child."

Some ten minutes later Skinner came into the kitchen, where Fitzgerald and
Scully were sitting. They looked at him questioningly.

"I think you were wrong about some things Scully," he commented. "She
didn't want to know."

Fitzgerald looked surprised.

"That's odd," he said. "She seemed really eager to see you again. I thought
you two would have a lot to talk about."

"Well maybe, Michael, you finally got through to her," Skinner snapped at
him. "Convinced her what a low-life I am."

Fitzgerald stared down at the table for a few minutes. Eventually, he
looked up at the younger man, and his voice shook as he spoke.

"I don't think I could do that Walter. Kate loves you; but if I have caused
any trouble between you, I'm sorry. I lost my daughter to some madman with
a shotgun, I don't want to see you lose yours."

"I'll speak to her again later," Skinner said. "For now, let's go and see
if Agent Mulder has any answers for us."

Scully made no effort to catch up to the two men as they climbed the steep
path to the mine entrance. She was pleased to see that they were speaking
to one another, but felt no desire to listen in. This unwillingness to
eavesdrop was a good reason for lagging behind, and a less irritating
reason than the fact that she could not have kept up with their long-legged
strides even if she had wanted to.

She wondered what Mulder hoped to find up here, what inspiration had come
to him in the night to cause him to go mountain-climbing so early in the
morning. For everyone's sake she hoped this new idea would prove fruitful
and give them some direction for this case.

Coming around the last bend in the path, she was disturbed from her reverie
by some movement in the trees near the mine entrance. She stepped back into
the shadow of a tree and waited silently. Skinner and Fitzgerald had
already gone into the mine. A few seconds later, she was surprised to see
Kate Skinner emerge from the trees and follow them.

Scully was crossing the open ground in front of the entrance when a
thunderous explosion broke the stillness of the morning. The ground shook
beneath her feet and she stumbled and fell. The air became so thick with
dust, that for a few moments it was impossible to see the entrance to the
mine. As she got to her feet again, she could just make out the silhouette
of a person carrying a pick-axe emerging from the mine.

"Kate!" she called out.

"What are you doing here?" Kate asked, startled.

Too late Scully realised the other woman's intent and was unable to evade
the pick-axe handle and the crashing blow to the side of her head.

*****

The words "You might have killed her" were the next thing Scully was aware
of. She was unable to see the man who had spoken them, although his voice
seemed familiar to her. Her head ached and she was overwhelmed by a feeling
of nausea. She lay quite still, as even the slightest movement sent daggers
of pain through her skull. After a few minutes, the dark fog cleared and
she was able to see that she was back in Fitzgerald's house. She was lying
on the sofa, a man was sitting nearby watching her and Kate was standing by
the door. Afraid to move or speak, for fear she might pass out again,
Scully waited.

"I must apologise Agent Scully," the elderly man said. "Miss Skinner
sometimes forgets her own strength."

Scully stared at him for a while before she was able to gasp out the word:
"Why?"

"Why? Well, I suppose she panicked when she saw that you had not been
buried in the cave-in along with your colleagues and Mister Fitzgerald.
There are still a few problems to be ironed-out with her, but we can't
expect a perfect result the first time. Or did you mean why did she cause
the cave-in?"

"Yes."

"That is a long story Agent Scully," he replied smoothly. "Perhaps I may
tell you while we wait for my colleagues to decide what we will do with
you; but I'm afraid I can't allow you to use the information."

"The funeral," Scully said, suddenly remembering where she had seen him before.

"That's right, we met at the funeral of Agent Mulder's father. I was able
to help you then."

"You warned me that someone would try to kill me."

"I will not be able to help you this time Dana. My friends and I have
various projects in which we take an interest. Some of the project-leaders
deal more harshly with interference than others, and you have interfered
with the wrong people this time."

Scully struggled to sit up, but as the room began to spin, she abandoned
the attempt and lay back again.

"How could you kill your own father?" she spat the question at Kate.

The young woman did not even blink in reaction, but continued to stare
straight ahead.

"Because she didn't know that was what she was doing. All emotional
responses become defunct when she is following orders."

"Whose orders? How could they make her do that?"

"She has been programmed since birth, using processes and technology far
beyond your knowledge or imagination, to follow our orders, blindly."

"Some sort of brainwashing?"

"In a manner of speaking, although a little more sophisticated. She doesn't
respond to you now because she is in a dormant mode."

He removed a flat rectangular box from his pocket.

"When I activate this device it stimulates an implant which causes her to
obey any command which I give her. I could command her to become her usual
self again, the self who knows nothing about any of this."

"Why kill them? We were nowhere near finding any of this out."

He shrugged and replied:

"Personally, I would have left well enough alone, but there are those who
are quite paranoid about the activities of yourself and Agent Mulder. The
decision was made not to miss the opportunity to dispose of three rather
troublesome agents in a manner which could only appear accidental. A
cave-in in an old and dangerous mine: a tragic accident."

"That was why Cancerman warned Skinner off the case, knowing it was the
surest way to get him here."

"So that's what you call him. I must remember to tell the others," he
chuckled. "They'll like that. Feeling a little better?"

This last was as Scully managed to pull herself into a sitting position.
Her head felt as if it would explode, but being at eye-level with her
captor made her feel at slightly less of a disadvantage. Thoughts of
Mulder, Skinner and Michael Fitzgerald jostled for space with the pain
inside her head, but she tried to put them aside, to focus on the
information she needed from this man. She also tried to forget the issue of
whether or not she would ever get to make use of what she learnt.

"Why choose *her*?"

"We had at one time a facility in this area. The remote location suited our
purposes. We drew subjects from the environs. Doctor Carroll was kind
enough to provide us with information on expectant mothers."

"Which is why you killed him before we could interview him."

"I did say some of my colleagues were a little paranoid. At the time that
Kate was selected, the F.B.I. were less fond of interfering in our
concerns, but since then many of our group have regretted the decision to
use her as a subject. However, in all other respects, she was an ideal
candidate."

"Why did you take them before the babies were born? I assume it was your
people who kidnapped Eve Skinner when she was pregnant."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a few minutes, then answered:

"You have a terrible curiousity, Agent Scully. It has gotten you into
enough trouble already, why pursue it any further?"

"You have nothing to lose by telling me. What did you do to them?"

"We made them what they are today."

He waved his hand to indicate the young woman who was still standing
motionless by the door.

"Incredibly intelligent, athletic, even beautiful, and completely biddable,
thanks to the implant technology. They are the race of super-beings the
Nazis could only dream of. You must realise that Kate is not the only one,
she is not even one of the first, although she is the first to have
received an implant. We had a few regrettable incidents in the past, when
our control over the subjects was not complete. You yourself, Agent Scully,
have suffered at the hands of one of our 'mistakes'."

"I don't believe you. This is all impossible, that kind of genetic
technology wasn't even dreamt of twenty-two years ago; it isn't even
possible today."

"My dear young lady," he replied, apparently not in the least put out by
Scully's disbelief. "When will you realise that what the wider scientific
community believes to be the frontier of scientific discovery is so far
behind the reality as to be ludicrous? We have a source of information and
technology which few people even dream of."

"Technology from another world?" Scully asked the question which she knew
would have been on the tip of Mulder's tongue.

"Ah, the spirit of Agent Mulder speaks through you," the man commented,
smiling benignly. An instant later, the smile vanished.

"The spirit of Agent Mulder can speak for itself," a familiar and welcome
voice spoke from behind Scully.

She turned as sharply as her pounding brain would allow, to see her partner
standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a gun trained on the seated man.

"Give that to Agent Scully," Mulder indicated the box which the man still held.

He hesitated and Mulder commented:

"Unless she's quick on the draw, you'd better not think of activating her.
She may be super-woman, but is she bullet-proof?"

"You wouldn't shoot her."

Mulder's grim expression however suggested the contrary, and the man, after
another moment's hesitation, handed the box to Scully.

Mulder took another step into the room and threw a length of rope onto the
table.

"If you're planning to take over the world with your zombie army," he
commented. "You'd better teach them how to tie better knots. Also, you
shouldn't have left Agent Scully's weapon lying on the kitchen table, you
never know who might get their hands on it."

He glanced down at Scully.

"I think I'll keep this for now, you don't look like you could hold it
steady. How are you at knot-tying?"

"Well, my dad was in the Navy," she replied, getting slowly and shakily to
her feet.

She tied the older man securely to his chair. Throughout the operation he
made no protest, nor did he seem at all upset by the situation. Scully sat
down again, still feeling a bit light-headed, but much relieved by Mulder's
arrival.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"Kate took my gun and made me go up to the mine, then she knocked me out.
When I came to, it took a while to untie myself. I started back down the
mountain; I took a short cut, I must have missed you on the way up. I was
about halfway down when I heard the cave-in and went back. I saw Kate
carrying you down. There were two other men and our friend here with her. I
waited until the other two drove away, then came in and found your gun,
which was lucky."

"Very fortunate for you, Agent Mulder," the other man interrupted. "But my
two colleagues will be returning soon and there will be others with them,
so I suggest you make your escape while you still can."

"What about Skinner and Fitzgerald?" Scully asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Mulder replied. "I called the sheriff, he said he'd get
digging equipment, but he didn't know how long it would take to get it up
here. He's going to get some men to help and they'll be here as quick as
they can."

Scully stood.

"I'm going back to the mine."

"Not yet," Mulder said firmly. "There's something that needs to be done
first. Have you got your medical bag in the car?"

END OF PART 06/07
-------------------------------------------------------------
 
 

PART 07/07

Scully looked dubiously at her patient, then warned Mulder:

"It's not generally recommended to perform surgery, even minor surgery,
when you have a suspected concussion."

"You look a lot better than you did when I came in," he replied encouragingly.

"If she goes for me again with a pick-axe," she cautioned him, as she set
to work with the scalpel. "I'll come after you with this."

"So that's what she got you with? You must have a pretty thick skull,"
Mulder said, in a tone of admiration.

Ten minutes later they were staring at a tiny metallic disc which Scully
had removed from the back of Kate's neck.

"We won't learn much from this without an electron microscope," she
commented, placing it in a glass sample container which she then slipped
into her pocket. She turned back to Kate, who had sat quietly in the chair
in which they had placed her throughout the entire procedure.

"What now?" she wondered aloud. "Maybe we should have 're-activated' her
before removing the implant. I thought she would recover as soon as it was
gone."

She tapped Kate's face experimentally and called her name. There was no
reaction. Mulder then tried the same tactic. After a few minutes of this,
and a glass of ice-cold water, they were beginning to get anxious.

"His hench-men may be back soon," Mulder pointed out. "Maybe we'd better
just take them with us and go back up to the mine. The sheriff might be
there by now."

Scully looked toward the room where they had left the man.

"There's no point, we won't get anything more from him now."

"He never answered your question."

"When will you learn Mulder, that they never do?"

She spun round suddenly and hit Kate across the face with the back of her
hand. The force of the blow was such that she knocked both Kate and the
chair to the floor.

Mulder stared at his partner in shocked silence, then, as Kate uttered a
low moan, he turned to help her up.

"Did you enjoy that?" he snapped at Scully.

"More than you can imagine," she replied calmly. "It worked, didn't it?"

Mulder was forced to admit that this was true. Kate did seem to have
returned to normality, although she was extremely disorientated and had no
idea of what had happened, or why she had a pain in the back of her neck.
The two agents promised to explain once they had got her to safety,
although, even as they said this, they wondered how on earth they would go
about this explanation.

*****

The rescuers stared gloomily at the collapsed tunnel.

"There must be a ton of earth fallen in there," Sheriff Wilder speculated.

The others nodded in agreement.

"Let's hope they were far enough in when it happened," he continued,
sounding less than hopeful. "Maybe it didn't collapse the whole way along."

He turned at the sound of voices and footsteps coming up the path from the
ranch. He and the other men had taken the direct road to the mine from the
town.

"I thought you'd be here waiting for us," he commented to Mulder, as he,
Scully and Kate came into view.

"There was another problem, at the house," Mulder replied, but gave no more
details.

The sheriff shrugged, then turned to the more pressing matter.

"We have to wait on the experts and the digging equipment, flying in from
Rapid City," he explained. "I'm sorry Kate, but if we start ourselves, more
of the tunnel may fall in, and we've no way of knowing where they are in
there."

"That could take hours," Kate cried.

"What in God's name?"

This last was from one of the men, as two filthy, bedraggled beings came
crashing through the trees. Kate gave an inarticulate cry of delight and
ran forward to throw her arms around her father and grandfather.

The rest of those present stared in amazement at the two men. Scully and
Mulder were the first to recover and hurry to where the family reunion was
taking place.

"Dana," Skinner looked up and saw her. A look of great relief spread across
his face. "Thank God! We didn't know if you were in the tunnel behind us
when the ceiling came down."

"I hadn't made it as far as the mine," she explained. "How did you get out?"

Fitzgerald chuckled, and winked conspiratorially at Skinner.

"There was another way, but no-one else knew about it. A secret handed down
from father to son. Follow me."

He led the curious group a little way down the mountainside through the
trees. Pulling back a tangle of undergrowth, he revealed what appeared to
be a small cave.

"This was the other entrance to the mine. My father closed it up years ago,
but we only had to dig through about a foot of earth to re-open it."

"Why was it a secret?" Kate asked.

Skinner and Fitzgerald exchanged glances, then disappeared into the cave. A
few minutes later they re-emerged, each carrying a crate, which rattled
with the distinctive clinking of glass bottles.

"I hope that is what I think it is," Sheriff Wilder commented. "So I can
confiscate some of it."

"I think there's enough for every man to confiscate a couple of bottles,"
Fitzgerald replied. "There's some more cases inside. Help yourselves boys,
and thanks."

The rest needed no second bidding, and soon they were heading back down the
mountain with several bottles each of Fitzgerald's home-distilled whisky,
which at one time had been known as the finest in the county.

"How long has this been in here?" Mulder asked, examining a bottle.

"Since Prohibition times," Fitzgerald replied. "My family was as famous for
this liquid gold as for the nuggets we dug out of the earth. I think it'll
be nicely matured by now. I was saving these last few cases for a special
occasion. I don't think there could be a better one than this. That is, if
the G-men don't haul me in for offering them a glass of boot-leg whisky."

Skinner shrugged and picked up the last case.

"I think we can omit it from our report."

"Well, if you insist sir," Scully sighed in mock resignation. "You are the
boss. But, before anyone touches a drop of that, we're turning ourselves in
to the County Hospital, to make sure there are no concussions or internal
injuries."

"Everyone?" Skinner asked, surprised.

"We've been having our own adventures," Scully replied. "We'll fill you in
later."

"What about that man you left tied up at the ranch?" Kate asked suddenly.

Mulder and Scully both muttered the same curse as they remembered their
captive, then headed back toward the ranch at a run.

They were not too surprised to find him gone, and the marks of several sets
of tyres in the yard.

"You could join the zombie army, Scully," Mulder commented, holding up the
rope with which she had tied the man to the chair. "You tie even worse
knots than Kate."

"It wouldn't have made any difference, once his friends arrived," she
answered. "Do you suppose there's any point in putting out an A.P.B. on
him?"

Mulder shook his head.

"I suppose we'd better go through the motions, but it's like you said: some
questions are never answered, and some people are never meant to be found."

*****

Scully watched the fat-bellied moths fluttering around the lamp, one by
one, either giving up on the prize, the flickering flame, or falling to a
fiery death within. The swing rocked slowly back and forth and each time
that it seemed about to stop, she gave a push with her feet against the
floor of the porch and set it in motion again. The incessant chirping of
the crickets had prevented her from sleeping and now she sat on the porch
of Michael Fitzgerald's house, contemplating the events of the last few
days as she stared into the darkness.

They had concluded that the reason for Eve Skinner's murder had been that,
in her regression therapy, she must have remembered a face, or a name,
perhaps, from the time that she had been kidnapped. Whatever it was, it
must have been something that would have led Skinner to her kidnappers,
perhaps it was a name he would have recognised. Finding this out, they had
killed her before she could tell him, and made it look as if she had left
him of her own accord, as she was believed to have done once before.

The day had been spent in explanations, first to Skinner, then to Kate and
her grandfather. They had been given a less detailed version than that
which was given to the Assistant Director. Skinner felt it would be better
to fill in the details slowly, unsure of how this news would affect his
daughter. To this end, he had decided to take what leave was owing to him
and spend it with his family, coming to terms with the momentous
revelations, and making plans for the future.

Everyone had retired to bed early, the three agents electing to stay at the
ranch to watch over Kate and Michael. In reality, no-one had felt like
leaving; the five felt connected in some way by the recent events and by
the secret which they now shared. Spending the evening together, having
supper together and drinking one another's health in fine old South Dakota
whiskey had been like a solemnisation of that bond. In a sense Scully felt,
that the connection she had so long had with Mulder, now existed, even if
only temporarily, between the two of them, Skinner and his family.

The screen door swung open and Mulder stepped onto the porch. He smiled at
her sleepily, then sat down beside her.

"Damn crickets," he yawned. "Keeping you awake too, Scully?"

"Them, and a whirl of other things."

"It's been an eventful couple of days. I've learnt things about Skinner,
about you, that I never would have dreamed of."

"About me?" Scully asked, startled.

"Yeah, who'd have thought you had such a powerful back-hand? I must
remember never to play you at tennis. Don't look so worried, I'm sure Kate
will forgive you, she's probably forgotten about it already. She has plenty
of other stuff on her mind."

"Do you think she'll ever know the whole truth?"

"No," Mulder replied with a sigh. "What's the point in telling her
everything? We can't give her answers, only more questions. I imagine
they'll stay away from her from now on."

Scully shook her head.

"I wouldn't bet on it, Mulder," she replied. "Skinner wants them both to
come to Washington, where he can keep an eye on her. They're very isolated
out here."

Scully pulled her feet up underneath her, and settled herself more
comfortably against the cushions. She closed her eyes and leant her head
against the back of the seat.

Mulder looked down at her and smiled.

"Shall I tell you a bedtime story?" he asked.

She nodded drowsily.

"How about a romance? Beauty and the Beast?"

"I really don't want to hear about your adventures with Kate Skinner."

"I was thinking of some other people."

"Shut up, Mulder, and go to sleep."
 

THE END
 
 
 

**********

Dear Missy - Lost and Gone Forever Epilogue
by Colette Godkin
cgodkin@indigo.ie

Dana Scully pushed open the door of the room and gazed longingly at her
bed. There would be no nightmares tonight, only deep, exhausted sleep. She
kicked off her shoes and fell onto the soft covers. A deep sigh escaped her
lips. She lay on top of the covers for a few minutes, wondering idly
whether it would completely ruin this suit if she slept in it. She was at a
point of both tiredness and confusion where she couldn't have cared less if
the suit was irredeemable.

As she lay there,feeling incapable of movement, but with a million thoughts
still whirling in her brain, her eye fell on a small, leather-bound book on
the bedside table. She reached out and picked up the book and the pen which
lay beside it. There was something she needed to do.

She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, before
beginning to write, before performing the nightly ritual which she felt had
saved her sanity in the past months.

*****

She wrote:

Dearest Melissa,

So much has happened since I last wrote, that I don't know where to begin.
We've just been to South Dakota, from a case involving, of all people, A.D.
Skinner. It was a strange experience, realising that he had a life, an
existence beyond the four walls of his office.

All the way home, Mulder talked of nothing but his amazement at the
transformation in Skinner once he goes beyond the J. Edgar Hoover building.
He didn't seem to notice how little I said. I was glad he was the one
driving, and therefore couldn't see my face, when he commented on the fact
that Skinner has been so relaxed the last few days that he must have got
laid. You see, I have a confession to make.

Yes, I know, it was incredibly stupid of me. He's my boss, one shouldn't
get involved with people one works with, blah, blah, blah. Oh, Missy, all
those things go out the window when passion takes over. I nearly wasn't
going to write those last words, most people wouldn't associate Walter
Skinner with passion, but I knew you'd understand. You never were hung up
on the conformities as I am, or was until three days ago.

Right now, I'm eating chocolate chip icecream, which you know was always an
accompaniment to us telling each other everything. I wish you were here in
person to share it.

Where shall I start? The gory details, I suppose. Oh, I wish I could blame
it on the wine or the late hour, and maybe they had a part to play, but
that would be too easy, and nothing about my life has been that
straightforward, that common-place since that day I walked into the
basement office and the X-files. Do you remember asking me what my first
day at work was like? Anything worth a second glance? you asked. I told you
I could dig the AD if he was a little younger, or Mulder if he was a little
more mature. Well, Mulder improves with age and acquaintance, even you
ended up liking him, after getting off to a bad start. And Skinner? He
seems younger now. Maybe when I said he was too old, I meant he was too
unapproachable, within the fortifications of his position as Assistant
Director, too distant from the real world the rest of us have to live in. I
saw a new side to him this past week, his pain and vulnerability changed
him completely in my eyes, and suddenly, thoughts and feelings I had
discarded as pointless, re-surfaced.

As I looked into his dark eyes (I had never noticed before how soft they
can be), I knew I was reaching the point of no return. He took my hand and
we looked at one another, as if seeing one another for the first time. I
slipped my hand into my pocket and switched off my celphone. It would be
just like Mulder to call at such a moment. Or Mom! I would have died!

I'm embarrassed by how little I hesitated. It was one of those moments for
momentous decisions. One of those my-next-action-may-affect-my-entire-life
moments. One of those moments requiring calm, reason, and lengthy
agonising. It was also one of those moments when the brain is so busy
analysing and proing and coning that it doesn't notice the rising mutiny in
the body until it is too late. Perhaps this is a good thing, although at
the moment that I leant across the gap between our chairs and kissed Walter
Skinner, I was too surprised at myself to decide this.

Several seconds later when I paused to draw breath, I was certain that it
was a good thing. In the moment of that one simple action, I realised that
life was too short for all this angst, that crackling log fires are
transient things, the effects of good wine wear off and even brass
bed-steads don't last forever, or at least are not that widely available. I
have come to the conclusion that the brass bed-stead did have a part to
play in my yielding to temptation, along with the wine, the lateness  of
the hour and the intimate conversation which preceded the event. The bed
was, however, the deciding factor. I just knew I couldn't live with herself
if I passed on this opportunity to make love on a brass bed-stead
underneath a hand-made quilt.

He put his hand to my face. He has such large hands, yet so gentle, it
surprised me. An eternity seemed to pass before he kissed me.  What was it
like? Let's just say that his kiss left nothing to be desired, or rather,
it left everything. I closed my eyes, I even kept them closed after the
soft touch of his lips had passed. I was afraid if I opened them, it would
all disappear. I couldn't bear the thought that this might be all, that
this dream might end here.

I remember pulling away from him then and looking at him; trying to guess
what he was thinking, hoping he was thinking the same thing I was. That bed
was like a beacon and I could feel my face going red as he looked at me, as
if he could read my mind. Perhaps he could. He stood, his dark eyes never
leaving my face. He had been holding my hand all this time, and slowly he
raised it to his lips, looking at my questioningly. I just smiled in answer
to his unspoken question, and an instant later his arms were around me,
lifting me out of my chair and over to the bed. My God! There wasn't an
instant to think, and guess what? Thinking was the last thing your little
sister wanted to do at that moment.

I could feel his shoulder muscles under his crisp white shirt, quite as
molded and firm as I had imagined them to be. He sat on the side of the
bed, looking down at me as I lay there. I have never wanted anyone as much
as I wanted him at that moment. I never knew a longing so intense could
exist. Tentatively, he stroked my hair. Every circumstance was just so
right, from the log fire and that big bed to the way his hand wandered oh
so casually, oh so slowly downwards. His touch was so light, I might not
have noticed, if every nerve in my body wasn't so hungry, so desperate for
his caresses. When I saw him for the first time without his glasses, all I
wanted to say was "take me, I'm yours". He did, and I was.

I want so badly to call him. Ask him to come here right now, and lie with
me on my bed as we lay that night. I could call him. I wonder would it be
the same, without the crackle of the wood fire, and the soft orange light
throwing our entwined shadows against the wall? Would it be the same here
in this real world we live and work in? Would we be the same?

All I know is that I would love to have him here. I would love to give this
room, this bed, the same memories of love, of warmth, of fulfilment that
that little hotel room in South Dakota now has. I would walk in this door
of an evening and I would smile to myself, remembering. And if I felt tired
or surly, I could remind myself that there are times when I can be
energetic and perfectly amiable. (I've just had a wicked thought! I could
inform him at a crucial moment that Mulder had also slept in this bed. I
needn't elaborate on the circumstances).

So, has one night of folly only added one more level of complexity and
confusion to my existence? Or have I found the man of my dreams? Well, if
he wasn't the man of my dreams before, he has been several times since.
Excuse me for a minute while I call some of them to mind, in "glorious
technicolor, breath-taking cinemascope and stereophonic sound". I know what
you would tell me to do: "go for it, girl!" Maybe you're right. This damn
job has taken so much from me, from all of us. Nothing can make up for
losing you, Missy, but just to get something, one thing, back from this
strange world I find myself in, that might help a little. I sure as hell
have nothing left to lose. I think my reputation was shot the first time I
backed up one of 'Spooky' Mulder's crazy theories. I try not to blame
Mulder for everything that's happened; I've always known what I was
doing...well, almost always.

Do I know what I'm doing now? No, definitely not. I think I'm going to give
spontaneity a try. After all, it worked out very nicely the last time I did
it. Your little Dana is going to have some fun for a change. Don't tell
Mom, and wish me luck.

Dana

*****

Walter Skinner pushed open the door of the room and gazed longingly at the
bed. There would be no nightmares tonight. He kicked off his shoes and fell
onto the soft covers. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He lay on top of the
covers for a few minutes, wondering idly whether it would completely ruin
this suit if he accepted the invitation in the eyes of the young woman
beside him. He was at a point where he couldn't have cared less if the suit
was irredeemable.

"Thanks for calling me," he said in a low voice. "I hardly dared hope that
you would."

She reached up to him and pressed her mouth against his.

"I hardly dared hope that you would come over," she replied.

He smiled, a rare, but warm and genuine smile.

"Do you think I'm that much of a fool that I'd miss this chance?"

"A chance for what?" she asked playfully.

He pulled her into his embrace and whispered against her lips:

"Would you like me to tell you or show you?"
 

THE END
 
 

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Kathy McNee for editing this and
most especially for her encouragement. Thanks Kathy for being my
sympathetic reader!

I have this incredible craving for feedback! Please satisfy it and let me
know what you thought of this offering. As long and detailed, or as brief
(and complimentary) as you like. I await your response...